Birds of a Feather
by InsaneAndHappyAboutIt
Summary: Christophe is one of the deadliest men alive but he is not a senseless killer. When his bosses send him to kill Craig Tucker, a seeming innocent young man, he begins doing the one thing no assassin should ever do. Ask Questions... Warning: MATURE SEXUAL CONTENTS!, M/M, Bad Language, Violence, Blasphemy. I hope you like it and let me know through a review! ENJOY! XD
1. Chapter 1

_**Warning: There's nothing serious in this chapter but this is the first warning of the story so I shall list everything you can expect. I will add appropriate warning before each chapter too. XD Here we go:**_

_**MATURE SEXUAL CONTENTS!, M/M, Swearing, Violence, Blasphemy (since did is The Mole after all...) **_

_**This is a rather bizarre story but I was challenged to write a fiction with my two favorite South Park characters in a pair. Since those are Christophe (The Mole) and Craig... Well, this is the wacky result! I hope you enjoy it and who knows, maybe I'll start a new ship! XD (I'm certainly already on board...) **_

_**ONE MORE THING! Since Christophe has that delectable french accent, i tried to put it on paper so bear the following so you don't get confused. TH is replaced with Z (The = Ze) H is mostly erased when at the beginning of a word (HAD = 'Ad) and Bitch = Beech & Shit = Sheet. That's pretty much it... **_

_**Have fun and leave a review if you have the time! ENJOY! XD**_

_**Also, I do NOT own South Park or most of the characters. **_

_**1**_

Christophe DeLorn managed to make quite a reputation for himself which was all the more impressive considering his youth. Despite his age, 22 to be exact, he was renowned as one of the most dangerous persons alive. He had enough enemies to ensure restless night for the remainder of his life, had he been a normal person, but he slept easy. Very few people would ever dare to attack him. He could count their names on one hand and of them he perhaps thought one could kill him. Christophe was not someone to be messed with and those who made the mistake didn't live long enough to tell the tale.

As he walked the modern glass domed corridor Christophe was aware of the other people making a path for him. Some even changed direction and went back from where they came as soon as they realized who exactly was walking down the carpeted path. He paid them no attention. They were the unimportant workers, the cogs of the company. People of his status depended on their work but they didn't associate with them. Common workers were beneath him though it wasn't his ego which stopped him from acknowledging them. It was his reputation and their fear. Even if he wanted to, they would rather run screaming for the hills than risk getting on his bad side. He smirked to himself, noting the nearest people flinch at the sound from the corner of his eye. It was good he didn't particularly like the company of others. He rather enjoyed being alone.

He'd killed many who were stronger than him but they all ultimately fell because of their connections to others. Caring for someone was a weakness and he was very good at exploiting weaknesses. It was part of his job after all. One of the reasons why he was so dangerous was because when he went into a fight he had nothing to lose. He fought with no regard for his own safety or life. He didn't care if he made it out as long as he dragged his target to hell with him. He had nobody important enough in his life to deserve the privilege of his consideration or the burden of his life. He had no anchor to hold him back, unlike those he killed. They saw their sacrifice for the ones they loved as brave. He saw it as stupid.

He reached the end of the tunnel and stood before the closed doors of an elevator. He pressed the button for the box to descent and waited impatiently for the numbers to go down. His left hand unconsciously reached for the hilt of his shovel, strung across his back, and ran soothingly over the old wood. He probably cared more for the tool than a living person... He was familiar with every small imperfection of it and he ran his thumb over a dip in the handle where a bullet had grazed it. He smiled grimly at the memory, recalling how he'd pressed the metallic edge of the shovel into the shooter's neck, severing his head clean from his shoulders. He'd dared laugh at him for preferring his shovel over a gun and claimed there was no way he could beat him with a gardening tool. He was dead wrong.

A sharp sound brought Christophe out of his revelry, though his morbid grin remained. The elevator doors swung open and the couple inside went pale when they saw him. They exchanged a glance and hastily scrambled to get out, quickly walking away from the lone figure. They weren't quite running but they were certainly not taking a leisurely stroll either. Christophe shrugged, liking the thought of having the metallic box all to himself better, and walked inside. He pressed a small button at the bottom of all the rest marked with a red diamond. There was no number on it but the symbol was enough information. The elevator box began lowering and he watched the numbers change above the doors. In a matter of minutes they were at ground level then the minus levels began. He started getting impatient but before his irritation could really flare, the descent stopped and the doors swung ajar. There was no announcing sound this time and there was no red neon number to indicate the floor. This was the last level of the building and nobody ended down here by accident.

Christophe walked casually to the end of this new, shorter corridor. He was in no hurry but he hated staying still. Many took that as a sign of impatience when in fact they couldn't be more wrong. He was very patient, like a predator stalking their prey until they felt certain one leap was all it took to end a life. He could stay hidden in one of his tunnels for hours, even days if need be. Many didn't know him well enough to understand that but he couldn't care less what they thought. Their quick jumping to conclusions made them careless which always worked to his advantage.

He neared an impressive steel reinforced door which used the space of the whole wall. It looked more like a gate than a door but Christophe was so used to seeing it he didn't give it a second glance. They always called him when they had a dangerous mission... The company had a good selections of assassins in its employment but only two who could be counted on to get the job done well, no matter how slim the chance of success. He was one of them and he was the most vicious so he usually got the ones where a massacre was unavoidable. A small square panel was fixed on the wall to his right and he turned to it. The motion sensor inside detected his movements and he waited for it to grant him access.

'Please state your name.' The voice was meant to be a woman's but it was too stiff to sound real.

'Christophe DeLorn.' A short pause while the machine analysed his voice.

'Welcome Mole. You may enter.' He turned back to the doors which were opening, the heavy mechanism inside it sprang into action by the mention of his code name. The room inside was dark but Christophe had exceptionally good night vision, courtesy of all those hours spent inside tunnels of his own design. He easily made out the contours of the bigger pieces of furniture around the place but he didn't pay attention to them. He cared more about the long table at the far end where the heads of the company were waiting for him.

'Welcome Mole.' He recognised the voice of the head geezer. If he wanted to he could easily find out all their identities and the most minuscule aspect of their daily routine but if they wanted to pretend a little darkness was keeping them safe then who was he to shatter their pathetic little fantasy? They were the ones filling his bank accounts with money after all. He stepped closer to the table, counting four figures. One was missing.

'What iz it zis time?' Anyone else would have probably been on their knees, prostrating themselves before the old men, but not him. They had power and wealth but he stood tall and unafraid. They needed him, not the other way around and he wasn't going to let them think otherwise for a second.

'Straight to the point as always.' He heard the note of displeasure and it made him smile. The shadowed man cleared his throat and pushed a folder towards him. He walked to the table and picked it up. 'That is your new target. He must be killed by the end of the week. The method is left to your discretion.' Christophe arched an eyebrow at this, though he doubted they saw the gesture.

'Are you sure about zat?' One of the other two, who had been keeping silent through the interaction, spoke up.

'As long as you don't cause a disaster again it should be fine. Hopefully you learned your lesson from last time.' Christophe pressed his lips together in a thin line. There was no mistaking the warning edge to the geezer's voice. He barely restrained himself from biting back with a sharp retort which would get him into far more trouble than this was worth.

'I 'ave not.' He couldn't hold back the danger in his own tone and he knew it had the desired effect when the man said nothing further. They didn't want to get on his bad side as much as the other people he walked by in the glass hallway. They may have had better ways of defending themselves but Christophe had taken corporation bosses single-handedly down before and they knew it. They issued the orders. The leash they thought they had around his neck was make-belief, true only in their own heads. Christophe was a rabid dog. He silently grimaced at the analogy. Fuck, he hated dogs...

'We'll be waiting for your report in a week's time.' He could tell they wanted him to go. He felt the same way.

'It won't take zat long.' With the yellow folder in his hand he left, not turning back when the metal doors fell shut behind him with a final bang.

* * *

><p>Christophe glared at the folder on the coffee table in front of him. His hands searched his pocket for a cigarette and brought it to his lips. He lit it without taking his eyes off the yellow paper. He inhaled a deep smoky breath before releasing it into a grey puff. He was eager to see who was next to fall victim to the edge of his shovel or, if he was desperate enough, a bullet from his gun but he decided to bide his time. It was his way of showing respect to the future corpse, not doubting his ability to get the job done for a second.<p>

'Excuse me.' He glanced up at the waitress, noting the irritation on her face and the dark circles under her eyes. She had his cup of black coffee in one hand while the other was resting on her hip in a haughty gesture. He said nothing, just looked at her. Her glare began to falter under the intensity of his gaze and she put the cup on the table. 'There's no smoking here.' She tried to make her voice sound authoritative but it faltered. Christophe was well aware of the fact. He's deliberately chosen the table set in front of the non-smoking sign. He continued to look into her eyes until she couldn't stand it anymore and looked at the sign behind him instead.

'So?' She threw him a quick glance and looked at the sign as if asking it for help. She glanced at the counter helplessly, perhaps silently asking one of the other workers to come to her aid but they smartly averted their eyes. The Mole's identity was a secret known by a select few but Christophe DeLorn's reputation for causing trouble, the worst kind of trouble, preceded him. He heard the woman gulp and noticed the way her hand fell from her hip to hang uselessly by her side.

'Never mind. Would that be all?' Christophe eased back into the uncomfortable chair, losing interest in her now that he'd won their little confrontation. He was looking at the folder again, taking another drag from the cigarette.

'Oui. Merci.' He heard the high heels click against the tiled floor as she left his table and he reached for the coffee. With the cigarette between his lips he took a sip of the hot, bitter liquid. It went nicely with the taste of tobacco.

He placed the cup back down and decided it was time to open the folder. There was nothing written on the cover of it. With surprisingly delicate fingers he turned the page over, his eyes falling for the first time on the face of the person he was expected to kill in seven days. He'd expected someone big and dangerous on account of being given so much time and being sent in alone. Instead he was looking at a boy who couldn't have been older than him. A quick read and he confirmed the young man's age was 21. He frowned as he studied the face. Blue eyes looked impassively back. Christophe began reading the information accompanying the picture.

The name of the blue eyed man was Craig Tucker and he lived in South Park. Christophe paused at that. He scowled at the writing but the letter didn't change for him. He'd hoped never to set foot in that cursed place again! He filled his lungs with smoke and read on. Craig lived on his own in a small apartment for the sake of convenience. It was located beside South Park University, or SPU as most called it, where he studied veterinary science. Christophe glanced at the picture for a second. He didn't think the boy looked smart enough for that but apparently looks could be deceiving... He grinned to himself. He was a perfect example of that too...

Reading further down the page he discovered Craig had a part-time job working in a pet store and he went there every day from Monday to Thursday after school. From what Christophe could tell the target was a creature of habit and following him would be easy, boring even. Craig got up every morning, went to his classes, went to the store and then went home. He didn't seem to have much of a social life... During the weekends he sometimes went on walks and usually he was alone. Christophe could imagine himself jumping the guy on one of the solitary evenings and killing him before the other had a chance to blink.

He closed the file angrily, making the coffee move uneasily in the white cup. Sending someone of his calibre after such an easy target was insulting and he wondered what the old geezers were thinking. Maybe they wanted to antagonise him because he couldn't think of another explanation for this mission. They were willing to send him all the way to South Park for a kill which couldn't take more than a day?! What was the meaning behind giving him a week? Christophe felt the questions rattle around in his head and he threw the bud of his finished cigarette on the cup saucer, immediately lighting another. He forced himself to calm down and consider this from every angle. There had to be more to the story and he was going to find it. He felt his fury cool down when he swallowed more of the bitter coffee. It tasted horrible but it appealed to him and it kept him alert which was the difference between a dead assassin and a living one...

He opened the folder for a second time, meeting the even stare of Craig Tucker. The contents of the file were light, too light for his liking. He had a thin profile of Craig's life, everything from his date of birth to his current occupation but there was nothing there which hinted at any level of threat, certainly not a high enough one to require the involvement of an assassin. He flipped through the pages, scanning the words for anything interesting but in the end he was left with more questions than answers. He leaned back, drinking the last of the coffee.

His bosses were hiding something from him, that much was obvious. Any assassin worth their salt knew not to ask too many questions and Christophe hadn't survived so long by breaking that cardinal rule... Still, there was something that didn't sit right about this Craig guy. He pulled the photo free from the paper clip attaching it to the rest of the folder. Christophe stared at the young man's face. He was handsome and Christophe remembered reading he was popular among the ladies though he didn't keep a girlfriend for more than a week. His longest relationship had been with a girl which used to go to school with him called Red. His school classified him as a troublemaker and he seemed to have spent more time in detentions than in actual classes. Christophe felt a smile grown on his lips at the memory of his brief stay in school. He doubted the teachers even bothered remembering his name since he was outside the principal's office so frequently. He'd hated that place and as soon as he had the chance, he left. He made more money on one mission that those faggots made their whole miserable lives so he figured he made the right decision.

There appeared to be a surprising amount of similarities between himself and his target. They both had short tempers it seemed. According to the file the majority of times Craig ended up in detention was because he picked fights with the other kids and had a bad habit of cursing, weather with words or hand gestures. Christophe wasn't known for his saintly tongue either... He stared into the bored blue eyes, wondering if he could find something incriminating there. He wondered if the irises were as icy in real life as in the photo. He wondered what they'd look like when they were wide with fear and he sighed in exasperation.

He was having trouble with this mission and he wasn't even on the field yet. He'd killed many in the past but he'd always known why they were targeted. Some were unlucky enough to be born into families who made the mistake of getting on one of his boss' bad side. Some were genuinely scum who needed to be eradicated. Some posed a threat, usually because they stumbled upon some information which could hurt the company or one of the bosses. He didn't get bothered by questions of morality. Christophe knew he was going to hell and he was fine with that. It wasn't for him to judge if someone was good or bad. He simply did his job and killed whatever name was put into his hands. Some called him a heartless demon for it but he took solace in the fact that those people were dead the moment the bosses decided it. If he didn't carry out the job they would simply send someone else and he would become an enemy as well. He was too smart to throw his life away because some moron was in the wrong place at the wrong time. God was a real prick and those unfortunates realized the fact too late, often times when Christophe was pulling the trigger.

No, Christophe was not a good guy but he wasn't a senseless murder either. His cigarette was burned to the filter and he flicked the bud in the direction of the first one. He narrowed his eyes at Craig. He couldn't figure out why this man had to die and it was bothering him. After a few minutes more, his expression darkening by the second, he shoved the picture back in the folder and grabbed the bundle of paper. He left his money on the table, adding a generous tip for the waitress, and stormed out of the cafe. It didn't matter what he knew and what he didn't. He had been given a mission and he had to carry it out or his photo would be in the next folder and he knew who the company was going to send after him. There was only one man they could send. Everyone else would be too afraid to challenge him and he would kill them as easily as if they were clueless pedestrians.

He had a flight to catch to South Park. He was going to follow Craig for a few days, since he had the extra time to kill, and perhaps he would get some answers to the nagging questions. If not...Well, Craig was not going to survive this week one way or the other. He passed by a bin and threw the folder in but he kept the photo. He folded it and put it in his pocket, right beside his pack of cigarettes. Before he went to the airport he had to make a quick trip to his place and make sure he had all he needed. He highly doubted he needed more than the clothes on his back and his shovel but he did need his passport for the flight. His face was a scowl as he hailed a cab.

'Sheet...'

* * *

><p><strong>Believe me, things only go down for our Mole from here. XD I hope I made a good first impression and please let me know what you think. Since this is such a random pairing I'm very curious about any input! XD <strong>

**HAVE A LOVELY DAY! **


	2. Chapter 2

_**Warning: A little MATURE SEXUAL CONTENTS! (between Craig and Stan, though this will be the only bit of it in the story), Bad Language **_

_**Hello one, hello all! XD I hope you're all having a lovely day and hopefully i can contribute to that by adding a new chapter! (maybe not... but i'm going to add it anyway) A warm THANK YOU to those of you who already left a review (favoured or liked or simply read) the previous chapter and i hope you will continue to be as kind throughout the rest of the story! ENJOY!**___

_**2**_

Like the majority of people around the world Craig Tucker was no fan of Mondays. Why should he be? It was going back to work day. He rolled out of bed with all the grace of a student who wanted nothing more than to sleep another few hours and turned off the alarm on his phone. Letting loose a loud, eye tearing yawn he scratched the back of his head and hesitantly got to his feet. His apartment was cold in the morning and he felt it on his bare skin. He didn't like to sleep in more than a pair of boxers but it was fine since the goose feather duvet kept him nice and warm at night. Unfortunately the slap of cold air on his sleepy flesh was an unwelcomed surprise every morning.

Wrapping his arms around himself, he ran for the shower and turned on the hot water. It would take a few minutes before the water actually warmed and he searched for his clothes while he waited. He found his trademark black jeans on the floor where he'd left them the evening before and he fished in his closet for a clean white blouse. His favourite blue hoodie was waiting for him on the back of his desk chair. It was the only piece of clothing he actually treated with any level of care. Well, with the exception of his chullo hat but that had been a gift from his mother so it held sentimental value. His current one matched the one he'd worn all throughout his youth and he was eternally grateful to his mother for finding it though he had no idea how since he had been unsuccessful in his attempts. It even had the yellow puffball! Craig remembered the shocked delight when he'd opened his Christmas present and found it. It hadn't been as expensive as his sister's new phone but he didn't care about that. He preferred his hat to a phone which was going to be outdated in the next year any day of the week.

He saw a thin layer of fog creep across the bathroom floor and decided the water was hot enough. With his jeans, blouse and a fresh pair of boxers in his hands he entered the bathroom and sighed at the warmth. He placed the clothes in a heap on the lid of the toilet and jumped under the hot water, closing his eyes at the simple pleasure of the liquid touching his chilled skin. His black hair pressed against his skull and some strands fell into his eyes. He flipped them away, deciding it was getting too long and he was overdue for a trim. He lay motionless for a handful of minutes while he ran through the routine of the upcoming day. Mondays were the worst since they were the longest. His day started at seven am and ended at ten pm. He groaned at the thought feeling exhausted before the day even began in earnest.

Craig finished his shower quickly and threw his clothes on. He walked out of the bathroom with a towel over his wet hair, idly rubbing it dry while he waited for the toaster to spit out his warmed breakfast. He glanced out the kitchen window and nearly gave into his urge to go back to bed. It was still dark outside and he was reminded again why he hated winter. Then again, this was South Park. It seemed winter was the only season they had... He liked the snow though. He wasn't a big fan of summer either. He didn't like weather that was too hot. He was forced to drop his deep thoughts on the pros and cons of the four seasons when the toaster announced his breakfast was done.

A thin layer of plum jam and he was sitting down to munch on the meagre food. He couldn't afford much else, especially for breakfast which was a meal he usually skipped. He'd been warned by his parents not to go to SPU since they couldn't afford it but he'd been adamant on doing the course he wanted to. It had been his only true desire when he'd been younger and he was damned if he was going to let money get in the way of his becoming a vet. Now he wished he'd listened to his parents. He was guaranteeing himself an early grave with the sort of pressure he was putting on himself between his course and his job. His parents paid as much as they could of his fees but they also had his sister to think about and she was far more demanding than him. However Craig was stubborn, too stubborn for his own good perhaps, and once he made up his mind about something then he was going to go through with it.

He finished the piece of toast, his stomach grumbling for more, and he glanced at his phone. He had ten minutes to catch his bus which was ideal since the station was just outside his apartment complex. He zipped up his hoodie, pulled his hat over his ear and threw his bag over one shoulder. Making sure he hadn't left anything on which could burn down the place, Craig left. He couldn't resist casting a final longing glance at his bed though...

* * *

><p>The professor was speaking but he couldn't muster up enough concentration to pay attention. He was sleepy and he couldn't shake the feeling off. Craig missed being able to afford coffee. He missed lattes but he had to wait for the end of the week when he'd be paid and maybe he could reward himself with the hot beverage then. He knew he was only fooling himself but the white lie soothed him a little. There was no way he could afford anything trivial when the landlady was threatening to evict him if he skipped on rent again this month. The woman was a heartless bitch and Craig was certain she was a lonely old hag. There was no way anyone in their right mind would willingly live with her. She charged a criminal amount too and Craig had no choice but agree since he couldn't afford transport to and from his home five days a week. She had him bent over a barrel and she damn well knew it.<p>

'If you keep scowling like that he's going to notice you're not listening.' Craig glanced at the girl sitting beside him. She was looking at the professor, at the head of the room, but her body was slightly leaning towards him.

'I doubt it's a secret. His lecture is too boring for Monday morning anyway.' The man also had one of those hushed voices which were more suited for telling children bedtime stories than keeping students' attention focused. The girls smiled and glanced at him quickly. She looked familiar but Craig couldn't remember where he'd seen her specifically.

'I can't argue with facts. Have you started your essay for this class yet?' Craig let out a tired sigh. He'd been too busy to do more than actually show up at classes. He was falling behind on his studies and it was starting to show. He knew exactly how the essay she was referring to was going to go. He would have no choice but leave it for the last day and lose his shit in a desperate attempt to do the whole thing from scratch in a matter of hours. He usually got good grades despite that and was grateful for his ability to work well under pressure but he was sure he was one panic attack from a trip to the morgue.

'Not yet. You?' She perked up and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He didn't hold it against her for doing her studies in time but she didn't need to look so damn pleased about it.

'Oh yes. I have it nearly done. I just have to think of a strong conclusion and I'll get that weight off my chest.' Craig decided she annoyed him. Perhaps he was being childish but he'd made up his mind. She was pretty though and he eyed her with his peripherals so as not to arouse suspicion. Blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders and he followed the descent all the way to the tips. They brushed over her chest and he glanced in the direction for a second before diverting his gaze back to the professor. He wasn't the gawking type and it wasn't like he hadn't seem breasts before.

'Good for you.' It was clear from his voice that he was done with the conversation but she didn't seem to catch the hint.

'I can help you with yours if you want. Want to grab a coffee after this class?' He knew better and understood what she was actually offering. The slight turn of her hips towards him, just so she was exposing her chest better, confirmed his thoughts.

'Sounds nice but I have a class straight after.' She pouted and he felt a little bad. A little. She'd been nice enough to him but he just had no time for a distraction, not while he was facing the possibility of spending Christmas on the streets.

'That's a shame. Maybe another time?' The professor was bringing the lecture to a conclusion and Craig nearly offered praise to the heavens for the small mercy.

'Maybe.' As soon as the man stopped talking he was heading for the exit, not giving the girl time to add anything else. He doubted he'd see her again.

* * *

><p>Craig pushed the door to the pet store open with one hand while simultaneously removing his hat with the other. He saw the other student behind the counter, reading a comic book, and Craig rolled his eyes. Stan didn't even hear him come in. He hoped the other had at least been paying attention to the customers of the day before he immersed himself in the magazine.<p>

'Hello. Anybody home?' Stan looked up at the sound, a scowl on his face which immediately relaxed when he realized it was Craig not some stupid customer who felt like asking a hundred questions about the eating habits of a goldfish. It was called google people!

'Finally! I thought you were never going to show your face.' He stuffed the comic into his bag, already packed and waiting on the counter beside him, and hopped off the stool. He grinned at the other boy who sighed. Stan was off for the day but his shift was just beginning and he was already tired. His eyes were half-closed in his trademark bored look and hints of black circles could already be seen under them.

'I was contemplating that but I need the money.' He stuffed his hat into his bag and threw the whole thing under the counter.

'Story of our lives right?' Craig gave a curt nod and moved around the cashier's desk, throwing a frugal glance over the rest of the store. The place was clean and tidy. He was happy to note Stan hadn't been slacking off all day.

'Anything happen while I was gone?'

'No, not really. That red haired bitch was here again looking for you but I told her you moved states. I think she believed me. Honestly where do you find psycho girlfriends like that?' Craig shrugged. She hadn't been his girlfriend but he didn't bother correcting the other man. She'd been a one night stand he'd met in one of his courses and he'd made it clear he wasn't after anything serious. She agreed, they had sex, she left the next morning and now she was stalking him. Craig couldn't help but think she didn't quite get the meaning of a one night stand...

'You'll be here for your shift in the morning?' Craig didn't notice the small smile on Stan's lips. He had his back turned to the other and was still looking over the shelves stacked with pet items and foods.

'Miss me already?' Craig felt Stan's hands on his hips, moving slowly around his waist and he sighed, half irritated and half exasperated. He couldn't deny the pair of hands felt good on him and he relaxed under the familiar touch running soothingly along his sides but he was so damn tired….

'As if. It's my job to know.' Since Craig didn't attempt stopping him, Stan moved closer to the other body, his lips an inch from the nape of the other's bent neck. His hands moved to the front of Craig's jeans, slowly opening them.

'Do you know what I want right now?' Craig bit on his lower lip when he felt Stan's hand slip inside his pants.

'I have a pretty good idea...' He threw a hasty look at the door, praying to his lucky stars to ward off any customers while he was in such a compromising position. 'But not here Stan. I don't want someone walking in on us...' Stan's hand began moving along his hardening length and Craig groaned at the heat beginning to course through his veins. He could scream until he was blue in the face but Stan Marsh did whatever the hell Stan Marsh wanted.

'Nobody'll see us and if they do don't pretend that won't turn you on.' Craig opened his mouth to do just that and Stan squeezed harder on the flesh between his fingers making Craig moan instead. 'That's what I thought.'

Stan bit softly on Craig's neck and he could feel the other body shaking below him. He moved away a step and turned Craig to face him while he hastily opened his own jeans. Craig knew what Stan expected him to do and he looked the other straight in the eyes while he moved his fingers to wrap them around the aching need. Their hands began moving in unison, fast. Craig threw his head back, letting the pleasure of the act rush over him and he moaned like one of the animals in the back. He could feel Stan's lips on him and he swallowed audibly. Stan moved close again and their erections were pressed against each other, their hands working to enclose both of them. Craig knew he was close and he could tell Stan wasn't far behind himself. He brought his hand to his mouth, not willing to attract unwanted attention because he had to yell his release, and noticed Stan grab a tissue from the counter. Craig shut his eyes as the orgasm drowned him and his hand slowed its frenzied movements. Stan groaned a moment later and he felt the jerking pulse of the other member against his. They both sucked in large gulps of air in a pathetic attempt to steady their drumming hearts.

'That was so worth waiting for.' Stan crumbled the cum soaked tissue and tossed it into the bin by the counter. He grabbed a second paper towel and cleaned the rest of the mess off, disposing of that as well when he was done. Craig looked at him with lazy eyes, his lips red and full.

'What if I decided to listen to my inner voice and skip work today?' They were both pulling their jeans up again, attempting to look presentable. Stan smirked at him and Craig understood why everyone wanted to be with the captain of the football team.

'Then I would just have to make you regret that decision the next day.' He glanced at the back room and Craig knew exactly what he was implying. They'd stolen half an hour here and half an hour there in the past to sneak in the back room and fuck. He felt a surge of heat at the thought but he was far too exhausted for it to be enticing enough.

'Do me a favour and look up the word regret in a dictionary when you get home tonight.' Stan laughed and leaned in for a quick kiss. Craig had a smile of his own on his lips as he watched the other grab his jacket and bag.

'You're the bookworm here. The only thing I'll do when I get home is sleep.' Craig returned to his previous position, glancing at Stan as he moved towards the door.

'Don't let the bedbugs bite.' Stan rolled his eyes and was gone, the bell above the door chiming softly. Craig sighed again and ran through his duties. He didn't have to worry about taking inventory or cleaning cages. That was Stan's day job and he knew the other did a good job so Creig would have time to at least glance at the reading material for his next classes. He offered a silent thanks to the other student and pulled out the book, or rather tome, of various diseases and illnesses which could be contracted by the canine species.

He glanced at the door longingly, remembering his warm bed waiting for him, and opened the book. He regretted his decision the moment his eyes fell on the Latin name of an illness so convoluted and complex he had to read it out loud to make sense of the bizarrely arranged letters.

* * *

><p>Christophe fell back against the car seat, the binoculars sliding down to his lap. He was still trying to process what he'd just seen and the corners of his lips twitched into a smile. There had been nothing in the file about Craig being interested in other men and it had certainly been a surprise for the spy. Either this piece of information was deliberately ignored or someone was doing very sloppy research work. He guessed it was the second since he couldn't see why the target's sexual partners were important enough to be deliberately avoided.<p>

He'd had his eye on Craig the whole day and he was no closer to figuring out why he was worth killing. He'd watched the man catch his bus and sat a few seats from him, watching Craig open an impossibly large book and read it attentively. Occasionally he'd tear his eyes away from the tiny writing and stare out the window. Christophe couldn't decipher the significance of the looks but he knew it was more than mere sight seeing. He noted the student's drooping eyelids and deduced he was not a morning person. Another thing they had in common, though in many situations Christophe had to snap into full alertness or end up with a bullet between the eyes. Surviving was a great incentive to wake up...

When Craig reached his station and got off the bus, Christophe was right behind him. He kept a few paces back so as not to attract the other's attention but Craig seemed lost in a world of his own device. He watched the guy step into a puddle and not even flinch, just walk on as if he hadn't noticed. Christophe remembered a horror movie he'd seen a few months back about zombies and realized Craig was moving sluggishly like one of the creatures. He briefly wondered if the other wasn't sleepwalking, letting his feet carry him to SPU of their own accord. He caught a glimpse of Craig's eyes while he was waiting with him to cross a street and noted the stillness of them. He realized the guy wasn't sleepwalking. He just didn't care.

He saw this again during the class where the blonde girl attempted flirting with him. He'd

watched the show with interest, fully expecting Craig to accept the offer only to scowl when the other acted contrary to expectations. There had been no interest on Craig's behalf in the girl, at all, and Christophe arched an eyebrow at the realization. She was pretty and from the file he knew she was Craig's type. He narrowed his eyes and understood he'd been too quick to judge Craig Tucker's character. He didn't know him well enough to make predictions about his actions from reading a few pieces of paper with his life story on them.

Christophe continued to tail Craig for the rest of the day, breaking his watch only for half an hour to go rent a car when the other finished his last lecture of the day. Sacre bleu, his classes were boring! Christophe endured a day of them and he thought he was bored enough to sleep for the rest of the week. He had no idea how Craig went to them five days in a row... From his car he could follow the student with more ease and drove on ahead to the pet store. He knew Craig's evening shift was about to begin and waited until he saw the target running for the building. According to his record he wasn't the most punctual of people and Christophe smiled at the unsuspecting, out of breath runner.

In all honesty, by that point he's made peace with the apparent fact that Craig Tucker's life was so mundane it bordered on boring. Perhaps that's why he found it so interesting. Christophe was used to the sort of lifestyle where every unfamiliar shadow was a potential killer and every piece of food was potentially tempered with. He lived in a world of mistrust and death. Seeing someone go through the routine of a normal day, from catching a bus to starting his work hours, was almost reassuring. Knowing not everyone was part of the chaotic, criminal world of his was good. That being said, he doubted he'd have the nerve and patience to live Craig's life. He shuddered as he remembered the infinite minutes spent listening to the lecturers.

He'd made peace with the possibility of falling asleep in the driver's seat while keeping an eye on Craig. If his day was anything to go by, he doubted anything breath-taking would happen during the night. Then he'd witnessed the steamy scene between his target and the other worker. For the second time that day he was proven wrong. He'd considered tearing his eyes away and letting the two have their private little moment but dismissed the idea. His eyes had been glued to Craig and he'd watched the other's face contort with pleasure. He couldn't deny the way he felt after seeing that and his smile widened.

Unknowingly, Craig had attracted the attention of a dangerous man and Christophe didn't see a problem with having a little fun with the dead man walking. Craig Tucker was going to die in a matter of days after all...

* * *

><p><strong>Woof! Poor Craig has no idea what he's in for... XD<strong>

**Well, thanks for the read and I hope you liked it! Remember dear people, i can't read minds so you'll have to let me know your wonderful thoughts through a much appreciated review! I'll be looking forwards to them! X3**

**HAVE A LOVELY DAY! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Warning: Bad Language **

**I couldn't wait and had to update this chapter early because i am so overjoyed with your lovely reviews! A very warm THANK YOU to all of you who took the time to make my day so much brighter with your lovely words! Honestly, i can't express my appreciation in simple words... (a thank you to those of your who favoured, followed or simply read the story too XD) Also, you don't have to worry about me finishing this story and uploading regularly because it's already fully written. XD It has 15 chapters in total and i planned to update weekly but if you guys make me feel his ecstatic every time then this story may be fully uploaded way ahead of schedule! XD **

**ENJOY! **

_**3**_

'No dude! Seriously, she was the hottest chick I've ever seen!'

'You say that about every second girl and you're still single.'

'Only because I'm not interested in anything more than sex.' Craig was only half listening to the conversation. He mechanically brought the sad little sandwich, cheese and lettuce, to his mouth and chewed slowly. It would be his only meal for the day and fuck he was hungry. The other two football players continued to debate what the hottest cheerleader was and he resisted the urge to tell them both to shut up. He had a bitching headache hammering against his temple from lack of sleep and every time Stan or Clyde raised their voices above a whisper was like a slap across his face. He poured his entire concentration into not wincing.

'At least you admit it.' Clyde snorted and Craig clutched at the food harder, telling himself that it would be counterproductive to throw it at his friend.

'You talk like you're any different. You're just after sex too or you'd get a girlfriend of your own.' Craig studied Stan from the corner of his eye. He knew Stan was not interested in girls, at all. He liked them as friends but he didn't see them in a romantic light though he'd tried for a long time with Wendy. She'd realized it before he did but respected his wishes and kept it to herself until she moved to England to study in Oxford. Stan still carried out the pretence around all but a select few and Craig wondered how the other could live that lie so effortlessly. It wasn't like they were kids anymore and it wasn't like he had to fear bullying…. He got his sports scholarship for a reason and Craig had felt first-hand the strength of the wiry muscles.

'Nah man. Girls are too much trouble for me. If I wanted to hear someone nag day in and day out I'd go visit my mom.' Clyde laughed heartily and Stan fixed Craig with a meaningful look.

'Well put.' This was the point where Craig zoned out of the conversation altogether. His headache was intensifying and his irritation was flaring. The food in his mouth tasted like ash and he had to struggle not to throw-up. He'd been in a foul temper since the second he rolled out of bed, having managed to catch no more than half an hour of rest. He'd studied the rest of the night and his head was buzzing with facts and figures. He had an exam next week and he couldn't afford to fail it. He couldn't afford to pay for a repeat.

As if sensing his vulnerability, that bitch of a landlady had to wait for him in the hallway that morning. What followed was a ten minutes shouting rant about how ungrateful he was being and how there were plenty of others students who wanted his apartment and they would pay in time. Her shrill voice didn't help his poor head and he'd suffered in silence, praying for her to just shut the fuck up. He knew damn well she was full of it. The apartment was a crap hole and her charge was way too high. Only the desperate would agree to live there, of which he was unfortunately one, and when she finished her lecture by threatening him to pay the rent by the end of the month or get kicked out he'd flipped her off. The gesture was reflexive and he'd made a run for it before she had time to explode into another rant, seeing her face go red with anger. He'd caught his bus just in time too...

At least he had the day shift at the store and he was going to start it after he finished his lunch. He would get back to his place before nightfall and maybe catch some sleep. He relaxed at the thought. Even if he wanted to he couldn't cram anymore knowledge into his brain while in that state. He needed to recharge his batteries and it was only Tuesday! He shuddered to think how exhausted he'd be by the end of the week. No wonder he spent his entire weekends in bed, sleeping away the hours and catching up to school work...

'Right Craig?' He flinched when he heard his name and turned to stare at Stan, the wide-eyed look making it perfectly obvious he hadn't been listening.

'What? I wasn't listening.' Stan flashed him an annoyed look for a second before repeating his earlier remarks.

'I said, we should do something later today. We could go to a movie or something.' The two looked at him expectantly and he grimaced, not bothering to hide his disdain at the idea. Like he could afford a fucking movie when he was eating a piece of cheese and lettuce between two slices of bread! Sometimes the stupidity of others astounded him...

'Count me out. I have studying to do.' He turned around, looking at nothing in particular, so he wouldn't see the way their faces fell. He knew he was being mean but he was in pain and grouchy. They would both survive.

'Come on dude. You've been burying your head in books for weeks. You need to chill or your head'll explode.' Stan was trying to sound like he cared but Craig knew he was in this for his own selfish gain. Whenever the other asked him to go out to anything with him it meant he wanted sex and as much as Craig liked that part of the deal he genuinely didn't have time to waste.

'Yeah!' Clyde chimed in with his own intelligence addition...

'Don't push me guys. I can't go so just leave it at that. If you want to take my place and do my exams for me then you're more than welcomed.' His ire coated every word and he angrily swallowed the last of his lunch, getting to his feet once he was done. The other two eyed him warily, some of their own good mood vanishing at Craig's biting retorts.

'Calm down Craig. It was just a suggestion...' Craig gritted his teeth so he wouldn't say anything else. He was _this close_ to disclosing Stan's true intentions but he bit his tongue just in time.

'Thanks for the invite but no. I'll head on to the pet store. See you both later.' Craig hurried away before he aggravated his headache further. The cool breeze helped and he inhaled the clean mountain air. Tuesday was usually a slow day and he resolved to catch some sleep in the shop. He knew that if he'd be caught by their boss he would most likely be fired but if he didn't take a few hours' break he would snap at the customers and still get fired. It was a lose, lose situation…

* * *

><p>It was the doorbell which woke him up. Craig kept his eyes stubbornly closed, holding onto the last remains of his pleasant dream with the desperation of a drowning man clinging to a log on the open sea. He knew the illusion of peace would be shattered the moment he opened his eyes and he wasn't ready for that. In the end he hadn't made it to the backroom. He'd had to deal with a string of customers, each one more exhausting than the last, and he'd ended up falling asleep in his seat behind the check-out desk. He'd been proud of himself at the way he'd handled the customers, even managing to smile at them when they left, and then it was like someone simply turned him off. He remembered telling himself he was just going to rest his eyes a little and he placed his head across his crossed arms on top of the counter. And now the bell was ringing...To alert him to the arrival of a new customer. His eyes flew open at the realization and he hastily sat up, though his sleepy eyes wouldn't focus.<p>

'Pardon. I didn't mean to wake you up.' Craig rubbed at his eyes, fighting to keep from wincing. His headache was still alive and well it seemed though for the duration of his sleep he'd forgotten about it. He felt an unreasonable dislike towards the customer for waking him up.

'No, it's not what you think. I was just...resting my eyes.' Hoping he didn't look too messy, Craig looked at the man before him. He certainly didn't look like a typical customer... Messy brown hair, even messier than his own sleep matted mop, fell in bangs around the angular face. Craig noticed the pine green eyes and the prominent black circles under them. The clothes hung on the lithe frame like oversize garments on a scarecrow. He'd have assumed the man was malnourished but he could see the strong contours of his face and the sleeves of his green blouse were rolled up to show very noticeable muscles.

'Oui. I believe you.' Craig's eyebrows creased into a frown at the stranger's tone. He didn't feel like taking bullshit from someone who looked little better than a hobo.

'What can I help you with?' He decided to change the subject, his eyes blinking too fast to dispel the last of the Sandman's spell. The stranger looked at him a moment and then a bizarre smile curled the corners of his lips. Craig frowned harder.

'Zere are many zings you can 'elp me with. You could tell me what iz your name for starters.' Craig arched an eyebrow, unsure what to make of the request. Maybe the guy was going to file a complaint against him... He didn't bother hiding the anger surging through him and it shone in his narrowed glare.

'Craig Tucker. If you want to file a complaint you'll have to wait until the boss gets in.' The other looked taken aback for a moment and Craig scowled. Great, now the man was going to say he was rude as well. Had he been a little well rested he would have actually given a rat's ass.

'Complaint? I 'ave no wish of filing any complaint against you. Ze reason behind my question was of a more... lascivious nature.' Craig's scowl dropped like a stone in the middle of the ocean. His eyes widened at the words and he snapped his jaw shut before a fly got too curious.

'Oh...Sorry for being rude then... Um...' Craig's face coloured. Could the situation become any more embarrassing?

'Christophe DeLorn. It iz nice to finally meet you Craig.' Craig was too flustered to register the importance of that word _finally_ and he hastily got to his feet. He immediately regretted the sudden movement as a sharp pain reverberated through his skull. At least it distracted him from his embarrassment and he sought refuge in the growing annoyance, looking for any excuse to pin the blame on the customer.

'Yeah. So, is there an actual reason why you're here?' Christophe easily caught the bite in the tone and smirked to himself. Someone was being touchy...

'Oui. I was interested in getting a pet.' Craig rolled his eyes and Christophe chose to ignore the gesture. Had this been anyone else he would have punched their light out by now, probably prying a few teeth free in the process just because, but he was entertained by Craig's reactions. It was nice having someone react to him with more than fear. Then again, he hadn't given Craig a reason to fear him, yet. 'But since I've 'ad no pets before, I was wondering if you could 'elp me find a suitable one.'

'Goldfish.' Craig had a bored expression fixed on his face and he was pouring all his concentration into keeping it that way. He didn't want the French guy, who'd already made a fool of him once, to see his suffering. He had to get some painkillers and fast or he was going to start crying.

'Excuse moi?'

'That's my opinion. Get a goldfish. They're easy to look after and low maintenance. Perfect for a beginner.' Christophe wondered if Craig was usually this rude to his customers and realized he had to be special. Nobody had filed a complaint against him, according to the yellow folder, and he doubted a normal customer would stand for such treatment.

'Iz zat so? Care to show me your selections of goldfish?' Craig nodded curtly, moving his head as little as possible, and led the way to the back wall which was filled from floor to ceiling with fish tanks. Half of it housed cold water fish and the other was for tropical fish, though they had nothing too exotic on account of being a small shop. Christophe eyed the small aquatic creatures with scepticism. He highly doubted he was a fish person…

'Those are the goldfish you would usually be used to seeing and those are a few other types.' Craig pointed to some with various colours on their scales and some white with splashes of orange. Some were even black and Christophe took a liking to them instantly.

'Are you working tomorrow?' Craig looked at Christophe blankly. Why was this stranger managing to catch him off guard so easily?! It frustrated him.

'Yeah.' He offered no further information and Christophe grinned, knowing exactly what Craig's schedule will be like. Unfortunately Craig assumed the other was making fun of him with that grin and his middle finger flipped out as if with a mind of its own. Before he could withdraw the rude gesture and put together a half-assed apology, Christophe's hand shot out faster than Craig thought humanly possible and grabbed his wrist. The student's eyes widened but before he could struggle Christophe fixed him with a dangerous look and he froze. He felt like a frog staring into the eyes of a snake and he felt fear. Cold, undeniable fear.

'Rude.' Craig watched as Christophe brought his hand to his lips, the hold on his wrist tight but not painfully so, and blushed when the other's tongue darted out to lick the offending digit. He opened his mouth but no words came out and Christophe licked along the finger until the tip of his tongue reached Craig's knuckle. 'I like rude.' Christophe released Craig's hand and he withdrew it, his eyes fixed on the customer as if he expected the other to attempt stabbing him. Christophe chuckled.

'What?' Craig didn't know where he found the guts to ask the question. His voice was shaky however and both were aware of it.

'Nothing. Just thinking you 'ave pretty eyes.' Craig looked at the ground as if suddenly self-aware. He didn't understand why his ears were burning and he missed seeing the sober expression on Christophe's face. 'I'll return tomorrow for zat goldfish.' Craig stared after Christophe, listening to his soft chuckle as he left the store.

* * *

><p>Stan nearly collided with the tall man. He stepped aside just in time and the stranger moved past him like he hadn't noticed his existence at all. Stan caught a glimpse of his face, noting the strange smile on his lips. He looked familiar but the man was gone too soon for him to give the thought proper consideration and he shrugged. He'd probably seen the guy on the street somewhere and for some reason his silhouette stuck with him. He doubted it was anyone important or anyone he would ever see again. Putting the man out of his mind, Stan entered the pet store.<p>

'Craig? Where are you dude? I got you some painkillers for that headache.' Stan glanced at the counter and frowned when he didn't see the other student there. He was probably stacking some shelves in the back and didn't hear him. He moved further into the store. 'Craig?' Stan found him standing, petrified akin a life size statue, in front of the aquariums. He neared the other cautiously, sensing something was wrong.

'Craig? You ok man?' He placed a hand on the other's shoulder and Craig flinched, his eyes focusing and seeing him for the first time. He stared at Stan like he hadn't seen him in his life, before understanding dawned on him and Craig blinked a handful of times.

'Yeah. I'm fine, just daydreaming. I didn't hear you get in.' Stan didn't look convinced but decided not to press the issue. He figured Craig was stressed out of his mind with upcoming exams and his rent. He'd had the unpleasant experience of meeting Craig's landlady so he knew how stressing she could be...

'S'ok. I got you painkillers for your head.' Craig stared at him and Stan rolled his eyes. 'You think I didn't know? The only time you snap like that is when you're having one of your migraines. That's why I wanted you to take a break so you'd prevent them but I guess I was too late.' Stan fished inside his bad and threw Craig a paper bag with the local pharmacy logo on it. 'They're extra strength so they should do the trick.' Craig continued to stare at his friend. His mind was still recovering from his encounter with Christophe so it took him a while to get it in the there and then.

'Th-Thanks. I really appreciate it.' He meant it too and Stan knew it. He smiled awkwardly in response.

'I'll get you some water.' Stan looked happy to get away before Craig thanked him again. Craig knew about Stan's aversion to praise and he usually exploited the knowledge to see the other get uncomfortable. He decided to let Stan off the hook this time. He opened one of the Nurofen boxes and rolled a pill between his thumb and finger until Stan returned with a small bottle of water. Craig swallowed the medicine eagerly, more than willing to say goodbye to the plaguing headache. He'd suffered enough!

'Did anything interesting happen yet?' The two were walking towards the counter, Stan noting to himself that shelves had still to be stacked. He rightly guessed Craig took advantage of the slow day and caught up on some sleep. In all honesty, he'd expected to find him still asleep. Then he remembered the strange man leaving the store...

'No...' Stan didn't miss the barely audible whisper and frowned at Craig's blush. His curiosity reared its head and he moved in front of Craig, blocking his path.

'Liar, liar pants on fire! What happened? Come on, you know you can tell me.' Craig was looking anywhere except at him and Stan felt like a kid with a Christmas present. Oh, this was going to be good.

'It's nothing. Really!' Craig had always been very honest, sometimes annoyingly so, so he never

quite got the fine art of lying.

'And I'm straight. You know you can't lie for shit Craig so do yourself a favour and spill the beans. I'll keep annoying you until you do anyway so you'll just save yourself a worse headache.' Stan could be classy and not give a shit but sometimes he was a twat. Today was one of those times and Craig cursed his fate. He sighed, letting his exasperation be known and decided to bite the bullet.

'One of the customers flirted with me.' Stan's eyes widened before his grin.

'Well! Look who's bringing all the girls to the store!' Craig shook his head.

'It was a man.' Stan felt a surge of jealousy but squashed the feeling before it had time to develop. He and Craig were not in a relationship so he had no right to be jealous. They occasionally had sex but that was it and they were both happy with that arrangement.

'Details.' Stan sat on the chair and rested his chin in his arms, paying his utmost attention. If only he paid half as much attention in class...

'He just flirted with me. What else do you want me to say?' Craig scratched the back of his head self-consciously.

'Did he try to kiss you?' Craig glanced at Stan.

'No but he did...' Craig remembered how Christophe licked along his finger and the red hue across his skin intensified. He remembered the look in the dark green eyes and he felt his blood boil. As scary as he'd looked, Craig couldn't deny he'd felt desire mixed in with the fear. He'd felt it coil in the pit of his stomach and pulse with every second the Frenchman stared into his eyes.

'Did what?' He'd forgotten about Stan entirely and snapped out of the fresh memory.

'He...nothing. He said I had pretty eyes.' Damn that sounded lame... And Stan's hearty laughter

didn't soothe his embarrassment. 'This is why I don't tell you things!' Craig bunched his fists and stormed to the shelves he was supposed to have organised already. Stan's laugh haunted him until he heard the other complain of stomach pains.

Craig's remembered Christophe's promise to return the next day and he was surprised to find he was looking forwards to it...

* * *

><p><strong>Touch down! Chirstophe officially met Craig and boy...what a first impression to make! XD I hope you all lovely people liked this update and do let me know what you think! I'll be eyeing my inbox obsessively... XD<strong>

**HAVE A LOVELY DAY! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello everybody! XD Here's the next chapter in this quickly spiraling out of control story. First off, a warm THANK YOU to all those of you who left reviews already! I love you all! XD I hope this update will also be to your liking and you'll continue to support the story. Either way, ENJOY!  
><strong>

_**4**_

Stan nearly jumped out of the bed, his fingers grasping desperately at the sheets. The name he'd shouted was still on the tip of his tongue and the dream still rattling inside his skull. He looked around his dark room in confusion, slowly realizing where he was. His ragged breathing began to calm down and the sweat on his skin was beginning to cool. He blinked at the watch by his bed, the numbers a senseless blur at first, and grimaced when he understood it was three in the morning. He rubbed his hands over his face, taking some inexplicable solace in the act, and knew he wasn't going to catch much sleep after that fucked up dream. He sluggishly got out of bed and tip-toed to the kitchen. His parents were still asleep. Shelly moved out so he didn't have to worry about her at least...

Once in the kitchen he opened the fridge and helped himself to a beer. There were enough cans for the absence of one to go unnoticed. He didn't have to deal with his mother's worried looks whenever she saw him with a drink and he was grateful for that. She was scared he would end up like his father but Stan had no intention of following in his old man's footsteps. He took a sip of the cold beverage, feeling it wet his parched mouth, and leaned against the kitchen door, losing himself in the memory which gave him such a fright.

For some reason his mind kept replaying the strange encounter with the exiting customer on Tuesday evening. He didn't know why his subconscious deemed it important to retain that encounter and annoy him with it and he decided to ignore it. After his dream through, things became a hell of a lot clearer. He took a hearty swing as he thought of La Resistance, of that traumatic spring when they saved Terrence and Philip's lives. Fuck that had been a messed up year. It seemed his entire childhood was constructed of messed up years but that one took the fucking cake. He still had nightmares sometimes about the occupants of South Park being butchered by Canadian troops... That had been the year Kenny died and Stan felt a wave of sadness at the thought. He missed the guy but at least he knew Kenny was in a better place. He'd seen his soul ascend to heaven after all... Fuck that had been a messed up spring!

And while he was dreaming about Satan's minions invading earth, the encounter with the stranger outside the pet store flashed across his mind and he saw it in slow motion. He remembered studying the man's messy brown hair, his murky green eyes and the clothes... The dark green and brown camouflage outfit and the fingerless gloves... In his mind he saw a shovel strapped to his back and the realization clicked. That's when he woke up, his lips open to shout the mercenary's name. Stan had been so certain of few things in his life. The man who'd left the pet store the previous evening was the same nine year old, perpetually dirty boy who helped them save Terrence and Phillip during La Resistance.

Stan was half-way through his drink and he closed his eyes, forcing himself to stay calm. Why would Christophe be back? After he'd died in Kyle's arms, mauled by guard dogs due to Cartman being a fucking fatass, they'd only seen him on one other occasion. When Kenny's last wish came true it seemed Christophe was brought back to life like the rest of the war casualties but he never forgot nor forgave them for getting him killed in the first place. The three of them, Stan, Kyle and Cartman, bumped into him once when they were teenagers. The meeting had been accidental and surprising for them all, though Cartman didn't even remember Christophe. Stan however, couldn't forget how Christophe looked at them, a silent fury lighting up the dark eyes. The mercenary had looked ready to kill them and they all knew he had the ability. They'd seen him swing that shovel first hand and Stan remembered taking an instinctive step back when Christophe's cold glare swept over him. The other spoke only one sentence before he turned and left, leaving the three of them sighing with relief at the narrow escape.

'_Next time I see you, I will kill you._'

Stan barely supressed a shiver as he remembered the words. That was the last time they saw Christophe... until yesterday. He had no idea why the mercenary was back in South Park but it could be nothing good...Nothing good ever happened when people they encountered as children came back. They made some serious enemies... Trent Boyett was still out for their blood. And if Christophe was here then the other guy couldn't be far behind.

Stan bit his lip, his eyes narrowing, as he thought of Gregory. Over ten years later and he could still remember how striking those blue eyes were. Sometimes he found himself remembering the other boy. He'd remember the dumbest things about him like, his smart-ass mouth, his gold hair, his quick wit and Stan would try to imagine what Gregory looked like now. It was the weirdest crush he'd ever had because he was jealous through most of it, jealous that Wendy got to him first, and the macho code demanded he defend his masculinity by competing with the other boy for Wendy's affection but it stuck with him. It probably stuck because Gregory had been the first boy he'd truly had feelings of desire for and that was the time when he slowly began realizing he wasn't attracted to girls.

And now Christophe was back in town and he didn't know what to think. At least Kyle moved to New Jersey with his parents last year and he didn't care what happened to Cartman. He wondered if the Mole was back to kill them, but if that was his plan than why hadn't he done it yet?... Why had he walked right past him with that strange smile on his lips?... Stan nearly dropped the empty can held between his fingers. Craig! He recalled Craig's petrified expression when he entered the shop and then his confession of a customer flirting with him...He recalled Christophe's strange, smug little smile... Stan's eyes opened impossibly wide.

'No fucking way...'

* * *

><p>Craig decided to take the Wednesday off and sleep in. It was the day with least classes so he decided to rick it, dreading a return of Tuesday's migraine more than a scolding for his absence. That day he didn't get out of bed until well in the afternoon and he couldn't think of a better way to spend the morning. He felt great and after a grilled ham sandwich for breakfast, or rather lunch, he even had a smile on his face. Reflexively he checked his phone but then remembered he couldn't afford to top-up his card so it was frozen. The thing was useless but Craig still carried it with him, mostly due to habit but also to check the time. He slipped it in the front pocket of his jeans and pulled his hoodie over a clean stripped shirt. He had a mountain of school work to do but he didn't feel like touching it and since he was being reckless...<p>

Craig cracked the door to his apartment open, just a fraction, and glanced down the hallway. There was no sign of the landlady. He cautiously walked to the end and began descending down the concrete steps, almost tiptoeing to avoid attracting any attention. He exited the building without an incident and he broke into a sprint, not daring to push his luck. The woman was probably still furious that he flipped her the birdie the other day and Craig was NOT listening to one of her rants. The thought alone made him cringe. He slowed down only when he saw the small coffee shop at the end of the street.

Without giving himself enough time to change his mind, Craig stepped inside the Green Apple cafe and immediately headed for 'his spot'. Fortunately it was free and he sat in the corner, on the caramel coloured couch, while he waited for one of the workers to come pick his order. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, inhaling the scent of coffee and baked goods, feeling his lips stretch into a satisfied smile. It had been too long since he'd paid the cafe a visit and he'd forgotten how much he enjoyed the atmosphere. For some reason it reminded him of home and he recalled his mom making coffee for his dad in the morning while he studiously scanned the sport's section. It was the most mundane of memories but it filled him with longing and he decided to visit his parents that weekend.

'You look 'appy.' Craig's eyes snapped into focus when he heard the thick French accent. He stared, open mouthed, at the man grinning down at him. He felt the tips of his ears burn and his mouth go dry. How was it possible for him to desire this stranger so badly when they'd barely had a conversation?! Then again, most strangers didn't lick his fingers seductively like that...

'Why-Why are you here?' Craig realized he was being rude too late and reddened. Story of his life! He spoke everything that entered his stupid brain. Sometimes he didn't seem to have a filter at all...

'By coincidence. 'Ere, I brought you zis.' Christophe pulled out a chair opposite Craig, not asking for permission to sit first, and placed two cups on the table between them. Hot steam rose from them and Craig inhaled the scent of fresh coffee. Christophe pushed one of the cups towards him and Craig glanced from the unexpected treat to the man offering it, confusion all over his face.

'Why?' Christophe smirked, taking a sip of his drink. It was hot and bitter. Perfection.

'Consider it an apology for yesterday. I realize I was a little...forward. 'Owever, my aims remain the same.' Craig cursed his pale complexion, courtesy of living in a mountain town. He knew he was blushing and he knew it showed.

'Thanks, I guess.' Craig didn't know what else to say to that. He reached for the cup instead, feeling the heat seep into his fingertips, and brought it to his lips. The moment the liquid touched his tongue he paused. He drank a little more, just to confirm he'd tasted correctly. He stared at the cup, willing the logo of the Green Apple to yield some answers.

'You don't like it?' Christophe eyed Craig's reaction with satisfaction, hiding his smile under the subterfuge of drinking more coffee.

'N-No. This is my favourite drink. How did you know?' Craig looked at the latte. Not just any latte but mixed with vanilla essence and cinnamon. It was exactly like he liked it and he couldn't comprehend how the man across from him knew that.

'Lucky guess.' Or rather a bit of background reading on Craig's preferences. He could tell the student didn't quite believe him but he drank more of the latte and Christophe could practically see his face melt in pleasure. He was well aware of Craig's financial problems and wondered how long it had been since he'd indulged himself with a trip to the cafe. His expression darkened slightly at the realization that Craig was saving his money for nothing. He would never have a chance to spend it...

'Are you really going to buy that goldfish?' Craig savoured the cinnamon and vanilla taste warming up his mouth. Christophe scoffed, tasting his own bitter beverage.

'Non. I'm not a goldfish person. Not my type of pet.' Craig's eyes met the other pair and he studied them more attentively. He noticed flakes of light brown, almost gold, around the pitch black pupils.

'Then what is your type of pet?' Christophe leaned in, almost conspiratorially, and Craig found himself mirroring the action. They were close, close enough for Craig to feel the other's fingers tracing his. He didn't pull his hand away.

'Something dangerous. A predator.' Craig's eyes flicked to Christophe's lips, only for a second but it didn't escape the other's close scrutiny. Christophe knew he'd planted the seed of desire the previous day and he was pleased to see it growing nicely.

'A killer?' Craig's breath caught in his throat when he felt the other move his fingers along his hand to his wrist. The touch was gentle but he was very aware of the calloused fingertips. He could feel their raw power reverberate through his skin.

'A hunter.' Christophe whispered and Craig was forced to lean in closer to hear. His eyes were on Christophe's smiling lips again and he watched the pink tongue lick along the lower one. He watched the enticing movement as if hypnotised.

'Does that make me the prey?'

'Oui.' Christophe suddenly tugged on the wrist, startling Craig into moving forwards and his lips pressed against the predator's waiting ones. Craig was too shocked to respond for a while and he simply lost himself in the feel of Christophe's touch. He felt the other work his lips against his frozen ones and gasped softly when the French tongue licked along them. Christophe took immediate advantage of the dropped guard and easily slid his verbal muscle inside Craig's expecting mouth, coaxing the other tongue into a battle. When Christophe pulled back it was only the table between them which prevented Craig from following.

'You taste bitter.' Craig was very aware of his heated cheeks and he twisted his head to look at an imaginary spot somewhere to his right. It gave Christophe the opportunity to admire the slender column of his neck and he eyed the pale flesh with a fresh appetite.

'I am bitter. Inside and out but you can zank that cock-sucking god for zat.' Christophe crossed his arms over his chest and his face creased into a sour expression, like he'd sucked on a lemon. Craig looked at him blankly, taken aback by the unexpected blasphemy. Not that he was a particularly religious soul himself...

'Um...' Craig searched his brain for something to say. Fuck, he was bad at conversations. Half the time he spoke only when spoken to and said just enough to get his point across. The other half of the time he was sardonic to a fault... He wasn't charming like Stan!

'I 'ave to go now.' Christophe got to his feet and Craig jumped to his, feeling his heart sink at the words. He didn't want the other to leave.

'Will I see you again?' Craig didn't know why Christophe was looking at him like that, like he'd made a huge mistake. He saw a flash of anger in the green eyes and something which looked eerily similar to regret. But he also saw lust, something he was sure to be showing himself.

'Don't skip work tomorrow.'

Craig stared at Christophe's back until the door of the Green Apple swung shut behind him. Now, how did he know Craig had a shift at the pet store the following day?...

* * *

><p>Christophe scowled at everyone who dared cross his path and the unfortunate souls quickly scurried away for safety. He felt anger boil inside him like an awakening volcano and he was just itching to erupt. He needed to find an excuse to fight someone and fuck them up. He needed a release from the nauseating feeling of being powerless. His nails dug into his palms as he balled his fists. With gritted teeth he stepped into the nearest pub. He occupied one of the stools by the bar and waited for the bartended to grace him with his presence. The place was pretty busy so he waited a while but finally the bearded man approached him.<p>

'Vodka neat.' Christophe already had a cigarette between his lips and he felt the action calm him slightly. His lungs burned and he relished it.

'Aren't you a little young to be here? Can I see some I.D.?' Christophe froze. He slowly turned his head to look at the man and he saw the other, three times his size, flinch at the naked fury on his face. 'Never mind! My bad!' The only thing which saved the man from having a knife embedded into his large gut was his sudden change in attitude. Christophe continued to glare at him until he had the drink in front of him and the bartended hurriedly found other locals to serve.

'Fucking beetch.' Christophe's mutterings went unheard, drowned in the noise of the other customers. He let his molten rage burn him for a second before throwing back the vodka, swallowing the content of the glass like it was nothing stronger than water. It wasn't enough and he signalled to the bartender to bring him another. This time the man didn't hesitate and Christophe stared at the freshly topped glass. He had to be careful. He was no light weight but he was human and he did have limits. Getting drunk while on a mission was begging for a catastrophe... Christophe gritted his teeth in frustration and emptied this round too, immediately beckoning the bartender to pay him another visit.

He was acting like an idiot. He should have never met Craig Tucker. He should have just seen him as another target, not a human being. He should have never returned to South Park, the land of fucked up situations. Christophe chuckled humorously to himself. If hindsight was a power he would be a superhero. He took a gulp of the alcohol, pacing himself a little. It was barely afternoon. He still had plenty of time to get drunk and make an ass of himself. He replaced his burned out cigarette with a fresh one, staring into the small flame of his lighter for a handful of seconds, transfixed by the warm glow. Such a small thing...yet so dangerous. With that tiny flickering light he could set fire to the whole fucking bar and watch it grow, devour and consume everything in its merciless path. Leave it up to that bitch upstairs to leave such power in the hands of flawed creatures such as themselves... He shoved the lighter back in his pocket with a snarl, itching for a fight more than ever.

'Hey there handsome. Want some company?' Christophe glanced, not bothering to hide his irritation, at the woman helping herself to the seat next to him. Bright red locks of curled hair flowed down her bare shoulders and spilled over her open back. Her tiny sleeveless tee-shirt barely hid anything and Christophe briefly wondered why her skin wasn't blue and black with frostbite yet. She gave him a small smile, full of promises, with perfectly painted lips. They were almost as bright red as her hair.

'No. Get lost.' Christophe was in no mood to entertain some lonely skank. He wasn't even in the mood for sex... He frowned at the realization and took another swing of his drink.

'Aw come on. Don't be that way... I'm sure you and I can become good friends.' She didn't realize how close Christophe was to doing something he'd probably regret later. He had to grip the edge of the bar table to prevent his hands from lashing out like feral animals.

'I said get lost. Find some other sad loser to pay you for whoring yourself tonight.' Her pretty features twisted into something ugly and Christophe enjoyed it. He even scoffed at the naked hatred in her eyes and the shock of the complete reject. It felt good to hurt others when he was in pain himself, yet more proof that he was not a nice guy. He wondered what Craig's reaction would be like if he saw this side of him and just like that his thoughts plunged right back into the endless ocean of anger flashing red before his eyes.

'You're a little shit! Go straight to hell!' Before Christophe could tell her that was his plan, she was gone. He could distinctly hear the sharp punctuation of her hells across the hard floor.

'Good riddance.' He finished his third glass and it was full before he asked for it. He glanced questioningly at the shrugging bartender.

'On the house.' There was sympathy in the other's eyes and Christophe felt like reaching over and scooping them out with his thumbs but he reigned it in and nodded his thanks. A free drink was a free drink. The man probably thought he was another one of the pathetic messes who frequented bars because they had some insignificant trouble on their mind. Christophe probably looked the part of the dumped lover and he barely resisted the urge to laugh out loud at the thought.

His instincts warned him of approaching danger plenty of time in advance. He pretended he didn't notice the group of young men striding towards him. Everything about their posture promised aggression and a world of pain for the unfortunates who didn't scurry fast enough out of their way. The leader was a mountain of a man with red hair and enough tattoos on him to make Christophe wonder what his natural skin colour even was. He counted seven men and a woman. He tried to hide his grin when he recognised her as the red haired bitch who tried to seduce him a minute ago. On closer inspection, she and the leader seemed to share the same features and Christophe figured they were brother and sister. So she was going to get back at Christophe for rejecting him by demanding her brother beat him up? Christophe couldn't be happier.

'Hey! I'm talking to you, French piece of shit.' Christophe rolled a lazy eye in his direction, making it perfectly clear he didn't consider the man worth his time. Normally he wouldn't. His silent insult had the desired effect and a second later the brute gripped his shoulder and pulled him from the bar. Christophe avoided tripping backwards, as the guy had intended, by stepping lightly away. He still had his drink in hand and not a single drop spilled.

'Moi?' Christophe put on a mock expression of surprise. He was happy to note his opponent was the muscle-but-no-brain type and it was laughable how easily his taunts got to him.

'Yeah, you! You called my sister a whore and you're going to say sorry.' The sister sneered at him and Christophe regretted not having struck her when he'd had the chance. He doubted she'd be grinning with a few teeth missing and bloodied.

'No I'm not. Your beech of a sister is a whore and unlike you, I 'ave standards. Now, take your little group of puppies and go fuck each other while I finish my drink.' The point of no return. Christophe finished his drink, almost as if taking a bow after that performance.

'You-!' Christophe could tell they were ready to jump at him, having taken the bait like good little fish and he quickly put his hand in the air, stalling their attack.

'Wait! I 'ave no intention of destroying the bar.' He didn't have to look to know the bartender was giving him a grateful glance. Christophe hated being indebted to anyone and he saw this as his settlement for the free drink. He wasn't being nice for free.

'Inside, outside, I don't give a rat's ass! I'll make you lick our boots!' Christophe's lips stretched into a maniac grin, showing his true colour to the group for the first time, and he watched the almost imperceptible trace of fear enter their eyes. They were barely now beginning to understand just who they were dealing with but it was too late to take it back. Christophe turned his back to them, insulting them further with his easy movements, and walked to the bar's back exit.

He was going to get his pound of flesh.

* * *

><p><strong>Sigh... Now Stan is getting involved and things are well on their way to become nice and messy... XD I hope you all like it! Do let me know what you think though a much appreciated review! Until next time,<br>**

**HAVE A LOVELY DAY! **


	5. Chapter 5

**Warning: MATURE SEXUAL CONTENTS! (finally!) **

**Hello, hello! I hope you are all well! Here's another chapter in this wacky story. As usual, I'd like to start by thanking all of you lovely creatures who left a review already! THANK YOU! I hope I won't disappoint you still... XD (remember, Sheet = Shit! That will make sense as you read the chapter...) ENJOY! **

_**5**_

Craig rubbed the back of his hand across his forehead, wiping away the beads of sweat gathered there. He looked at his work like a proud father would at his children. The rows of shelves were stacked and not a thing was out of place. It had taken him the better half of the day but he'd done a great job. Besides, he had to take care of his skipped workload from Wednesday. He pulled his headphones out of his ear, interrupting Bon Jovi's _It's My Life_ at the best part. Normally he wouldn't listen to music while on his shift but he was facing the door and if anyone entered the store he would have seen them. It had been quiet so far, almost dead, and Craig was grateful for that. He was getting paid either way but this way he didn't have to resist the urge to flip someone off because they were being annoying.

He couldn't remember the last day he'd felt this good. Taking Wednesday off and spoiling himself a little had been the best decision he'd ever made. Craig felt rejuvenated and happy, chipper even. It took hard work on his behalf to keep the good mood from disappearing by not thinking of his exams and essays he had yet to start and rent and... No! He was not going there! He hastily turned his thoughts to Christophe and the surprise latte and his goofy smile slowly returned, accompanied by a light blush. Fuck, he was acting like a love struck teenager but there was nothing he could do about it. He didn't try to deny he was heavily crushing on this mysterious, dangerous, dirty looking foreigner. He's accepted the fact of it by now…

The phone shrilled and he literally jumped. He glanced around him as if he expected someone to point an accusing finger at him for thinking about Christophe and the phone was the incriminating alarm. Silently urging his heart to slow down or risk damaging the rest of his organs, Craig ran to the counter where the store phone was and answered it. Before he had time to greet the caller and ask what he could be of service with he was assaulted by a very angry stream of words.

'Craig! Where the fuck were you?! I've been trying to get a hold of you all day yesterday but you didn't go to classes and you didn't show up for work! You owe me for covering your ass for that by the way. And would it kill you to answer your fucking phone?! I've been leaving you messages-'

'Stan?' Craig knew it was his friend but he had no idea why the other was so flustered. It wasn't the first time one of them took a day off... It wasn't that big a deal.

'No. It's Mr Hanky! Of course it's fucking Stan!'

'Dude, calm down. What's wrong?' Craig glanced at the clock and realized his shift was almost over. Stan should make an appearance any minute which made the urgency of this call all the more confusing.

'It's... Okay, just work with me here. Do you remember the customer who flirted with you on Tuesday?' Craig blushed and was grateful Stan couldn't see him. He nodded then remembered Stan couldn't see that either.

'What about him?'

'Was his name Christophe DeLorn?' Craig frowned, keeping silent for a moment. How did Stan know Christophe's name?... 'Craig?'

'Yeah. How do you know that?'

'Fuck!' Craig was taken aback by the unexpected curse and nearly dropped the phone. Stan sounded angry and scared. Craig heard the alarm bells inside his head ringing and they were deafening.

'What is it?! Stan?'

'Did you see him again after that? Like, at all? Even on the street.' Craig cast his mind back to the previous day and smiled coyly.

'Why? Are you jealous?' Craig smirked but hoped that was not the case because he had no intention of dealing with a jealous lover. He was certain Stan understood the term of their affair, perhaps even better than he himself did. Stan came up with the no-strings-attached rule after all.

'No! Craig, you have to listen to me. That guy's bad news, as in you-end-up-dead bad news. Don't trust him!' Craig wondered where Stan was going with this joke. He pointedly ignored that small voice inside his head which whispered it had been right. He'd known Christophe was dangerous from the second he laid eyes on him but the allure was too great to resist and something self-destructive in Craig pushed him towards the temptation. He was almost at the point of no return...

'Alright dude. I think you've been watching too many movies. He's... He's...' He was outside the door. Craig's words trailed into silence as he stared at the man entering the store. Christophe had a small grin on his thin lips and a new light in his eyes. He looked even more feral, if that were possible. Craig's eyes ran down the taller figure, slowly noting the fresh tares in the creased green shirt and the dark patches which looked dangerously close to dried blood.

'Craig? You still there man?' Stan's voice brought him out of his daze and Craig's head snapped back up to see Christophe studying him with amusement.

'Gotta go.'

'Wait! Did he just come in?! Don't!-' Craig didn't let Stan finish whatever he had to say. Whatever deluded ideas of jealous paranoia plagued his friend, Craig didn't want to hear them.

'Allo Craig. I see you listened to my advice. Good.' Craig was too distracted by the bruises on Christophe's face to hear what the other said. An especially dark one covered his right cheek, just below his eye, and Craig felt a surge of worry at the sight.

'What happened to you?' Christophe laughed, leaning over the counter like he'd done the first time he's stepped inside the pet store. Craig realized he was closing the distance between them only when he was a hand's reach away.

'I got into a fight. If you zink zis is bad, you should see the other guys.' They were all in the hospital, except the woman, though Christopher had hit her once accidentally. She jumped in front of her brother and it was too late for Christophe to stop the descent of his fist... It wasn't any major damage but he did regret it. He didn't find joy in beating up people who couldn't defend themselves... That was sick.

'Are you okay?' Craig unconsciously reached for the angry red patch, touching it gently with the tips of his fingers. The skin was surprisingly soft. Craig had expected every aspect of Christophe to be as rough as his appearance, though his lips had also been soft...

'Oui. But you can 'elp me feel even better...' Christophe locked eyes with the taken aback student. The lust Craig saw in them left no question as to what the other was implying and he swallowed audibly. He felt his stomach flip and his mouth go dry.

'I'm on my shift.' For another five minutes and Stan was already on his way… Christophe leaned in, his lips brushing lightly against Craig's jaw until they reached his ear. A stray shiver rippled through Craig, getting larger the lower it descended down his spine. He was afraid his legs would give way under his weight.

'Skip it.'

* * *

><p>Christophe had Craig pressed against the apartment door before the other had a chance to close it. It banged shut and Craig was free to twist his arms around the other's neck. Christophe's kisses were a slaughter, attacking Craig's willing mouth relentlessly and he had the younger man panting for breath in record time. His daft hands were easily getting rid of the blue hoodie and making their eager way under the black tee-shirt. Christophe absentmindedly read the message scribbled across Craig's chest and grinned to himself. <em>If you want it, take it.<em> He had every intention of doing just that.

The Mole made up his mind the other night. After the fight, he'd felt clear minded and freed in a way only violence could make it possible. He'd relished every stab of pain as he walked back to his hotel room and every spilled drop of blood. He'd savored the still fresh memory of bones breaking under the assault of his kicks and flesh tearing under his fists. The wild beast in him shook off its chains and ran loose but it was time to close those locks again. However, the brief freedom helped him decide. Thursday was the day Craig would die. Today was the day Craig would die and nothing was going to change the Mole's mind. Christophe pressed Craig harder against the door at the thoughts, feeling his veins boil with bloodlust.

This wasn't the first time Craig brought someone who was little more than a stranger to his bed but he couldn't recall the chemistry ever being this explosive. From the second he left the store, leaving a quickly scribbled apology for Stan, he'd known he was doing something stupid but he simply didn't have it in him to care. He wanted, no… Craved Christophe's touch in a way he'd never craved anyone else's. The ride from the store to his apartment, in Christophe's rented car, had been the longest journey of his life. The heavy silence was excruciating but he didn't dare say anything for fear Christophe would change his mind or even worse, he'd lose self-control and jump the Frenchman's bones while on the road. Feeling the other's lips devouring his own was literally a dream come true and Craig didn't hold back the approving noises of pleasure breaking free from his larynx.

Teeth bit his lower lip and Craig gasped, feeling the pressure of the incisors on his flesh. A second later Christophe's tongue was inside him mouth again, forcing his own verbal muscle into submission and Craig's fingers scraped against his shoulder blades. He wanted to pry away the dirty green top but he couldn't hold onto his concentration for long enough to make a descent attempt at the task. He wished he had the strength to tear it away... He settled on running his palms along Christophe's toned upper arms instead. He felt the power of the working biceps and melted at the thought of those same muscles working to hold him down against the sheets of his bed.

Christophe broke away suddenly and without a second's hesitation he dragged Craig away from the door towards the bed. He led the way like he was the owner of the apartment, not the other way around, and Craig followed without question. There was no pause in Christophe's stride and when he reached the bed he threw Craig on it, watching him bounce on the disheveled sheets while inhaling a sharp breath. Craig kept his eyes glued to Christophe's, the intensity of the dark depths burning holes into his very soul, while he tore his clothes away. Christophe did the same and before Craig had a chance to do more than release a guttered moan, he was on top of him, tongue taking charge of his mouth with a destructive intent.

Craig opened his legs and felt Christophe slip between them, their obvious desires for one another rubbing together in delicious friction. Lips moved along his neck, teeth scratching the skin lightly but intentionally, and Craig arched below the other body. Moans broke free unbidden as Christophe's hands moved over his chest and back, touching sweet spots he didn't even know existed. The other's skill was painfully obvious and Craig could only imagine what being fucked by him would feel like. He hoped he wouldn't have to imagine for too long because he knew whatever his mind conceived would pale in comparison with the real deal. Christophe took him by surprise when he closed his lips around one of his nipples, sucking harshly on the sensitive flesh.

Christophe meant to distract Craig from where his finger was headed and his plan worked perfectly. Craig realized the other's true intention only after he had a finger knuckle deep inside him, twisting and pressing against the walls of his entrance. Christophe had coated his digits with saliva while Craig was distracted by his free hand running unchecked over the plains of his chest and back. He knew saliva was a poor substitute for lubricant but he doubted either cared enough to stop. Craig didn't have anything better anyway. Christophe fucked like he killed. He enjoyed the play, the hunt, but when he decided to get serious he went straight for the bull's-eye. His finger struck the bundle of nerves inside Craig on his third thrust and the result was highly satisfying. The younger of the two practically yelled his pleasure.

Christophe studied Craig's expressions, his irises darkening at the naked lust twisting them in all sorts of erotic displays. He thrust his fingers, two by now, inside the welcoming heat without mercy and without pause. He rammed his tips against Craig's prostate hard enough to have the other writhe with pleasure blow his ministrations, adding a third finger when he decided the other was ready for harsher punishment. Tears prickled the corners of Craig's eyes but they weren't there due to pain. Quite the contrary actually and he begged shamelessly for Christophe to stop torturing him and fuck him already. He was beyond the point of no return.

Christophe pulled his hand away and immediately grabbed Craig's thighs, lifting his lower body while opening them. He pulled the compliant body towards him and Craig called his name when his member pressed against the twitching entrance. The thinner legs hooked over his shoulders without having to be instructed and Christophe grinned at the sight of his target behaving so slutty for his future killer. He pressed his mouth to Craig's in a silencing kiss while simultaneously driving his entire length inside the stretched entrance. He felt Craig's fingers reach for him and scrape along his shoulders and back, drawing blood. He nipped at Craig's throat as punishment, feeling the intoxicating rush of blood under his tongue and counting the hectic pace of the living pulse. How easy it would be to bite just a little hard and tear open that single vain protruding along the column of Craig's exposed throat... One tear and he could watch the life spill out of him...

Christophe started to move without any warning, starting a fast pace from the very beginning. Craig could only hold on for dear life, his hands pressed into the mattress by Christophe's powerful hold. He couldn't remember a time when he'd been dominated so wholly and Craig realized he'd been missing out. He didn't know when he started chanting Christophe's name like a prayer but once he started he couldn't stop. Then he called out to God and Christophe's thrusts became even harsher, rocking the entire bed with the motions of his movements. Craig had no way of knowing Christophe found the idea of invoking God's name for such blasphemous purposes highly exciting.

Craig was aching for release and Christophe knew it but he had no intention of letting him come yet. He wasn't done with him yet. He ignored Craig's pleas and continued fucking him into the mattress, his fingers holding onto the student's, twisting them together so neither could break free. Craig knew that once he would reach his high he would be out like a light. He could already feel the allure of sleep and he wondered if he'd ever been fucked so well he'd been knocked out... Stan definitely never managed it. After what seemed an eternity of pleasure driven torture, Christophe released one of his hands and Craig automatically moved it to his member, nearly sobbing at the contact. He moved his hand along his own cock in rhythm with Christophe's thrusts. He knew Christophe was watching him and he tried to focus his own gaze but couldn't seem to keep his eyelids from tightly shutting.

Craig felt another hand move along his length in union with his and that proved to be the final straw. His fingers fell helplessly by his side but Christophe took over and squeezed the last of his release out of him. He shuddered, wishing desperately he was in a saner state of mind so he could fully appreciate the sight of Christophe's hand on his cock. He was vaguely aware the thrusts stopped and a moment later something hot coated his stomach, mixing with his own seed. Craig was already drifting off, the dark whispering promises of pleasant dreams, and was out just as Christophe regained his composure.

Christophe reached for the nearest piece of clothing and began cleaning the mess on Craig's stomach. He threw the soiled black tee-shirt into a heap in a corner of the room when he was done, certain Craig wouldn't mind the mess. He wasn't even going to see it. Christophe looked over the sleeping target, noting the way his expression smoothed out in his sleep, and reminded himself of what he had to do. Craig Tucker couldn't wake up from that sleep. Christophe felt his own exhaustion creeping over him, dulling his senses and decided to finish the job after a quick rest. He was going to wake up before Craig, of that he was certain, and he had to be alert if he had any hope of getting away with murder. South Park had an incompetent police force but even a broken clock told the right time occasionally...

With a tired but sated sigh Christophe fell on the bed beside Craig, dragging the sheets over both their bodies and immediately fell asleep.

* * *

><p>It was still Thursday when Christophe woke up. He glanced at the clock and realized he had less than half an hour to kill Craig if he wanted to keep true to his word and finish his mission by the end of that day. He rose slowly, feeling Craig's arm fall down his chest. He turned to look at the clueless student, caught in some pleasant dream. Christophe stared at the other, wondering why he was feeling so hesitant. He'd killed people in their sleep before. It was easy, terrifyingly so. Narrowing his eyes and mentally giving himself a fortifying slap, the mercenary moved to straddle the slumbering figure. He inhaled a steadying breath at the feel of the other's body heat transferring to his skin. To think that heat would soon turn cold, extinguished like a candle in the night...<p>

The Mole moved a hand across Craig's steadily rising and falling chest, the fingertips feeling the lungs expand inside the bony ribcage. He felt the beat of his heart, proof that Craig Tucker was alive and counted the beats for a handful of seconds. Each beat echoed through him and he felt like his own heart was altering its pace so it could mirror the other. Finally he moved his fingers to Craig's neck, tracing the jugular and remembering his thought about biting it. He felt the pulse there too and the rush of blood and closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the life.

His hands moved around the throat while his eyes were still closed. His fingers encircled the fragile flesh and Christophe felt the pulse jumping against the touch. He opened his eyes and looked at Craig's oblivious face, steeling himself for the kill. All he had to do was squeeze... All he had to do was apply a little pressure and it would all be over. He tightened his hold, feeling the blood rush faster under his thumbs. Craig's mouth fell open, unconsciously gasping for breath and Christophe paused, easing up on the pressure.

He couldn't do it. He searched frantically for his killer's instinct which had never let him down until now but came up empty handed. He couldn't bring himself to kill this target and he stared helplessly at Craig, his hands still settled uselessly around the other's throat. The realization scared him more than few things in his life ever had. He wished he could go back in time and kill Craig the moment he saw him rather than wait and get to know him. He'd made the detrimental mistake of forming a connection and now he couldn't sever it. He silently cursed his own stupidity, calling himself every name in the book and cursed God too for being so fucking cruel. He was in deep trouble now...They both were.

'Sheet...'

* * *

><p><strong>Well, it would be no fun if things ended so quickly... I hope you all liked the update and I'll upload the next chappy this weekend! I can barely wait to hear your thoughts! (fingers crossed they're nice... XD) <strong>

**HAVE A LOVELY DAY! **


	6. Chapter 6

**As promised, here's a new chapter since it's the weekend! (thought i forgot, didn't u? XD) THANK YOU for supporting this story thus far! You are all the gems who make this life glow so brightly my dears! I hope you like this chapter too and the rest to come! (fingers crossed...) **

**ENJOY! **

_**6**_

Every few seconds Craig's eyes drifted to the store door and a moment later he got that disappointed look on his face and would turn away and resume his work. Stan studied the reoccurring action, his irritation burning brighter every time. He remembered how chipper Craig had been in the morning when he ran into him at school. He'd even offered to accompany Stan to the store and help out despite it being Friday and having the day off. Stan rightly suspected Craig wanted to be at the store in the hope a certain man would swing by. It was plain as day Craig got laid the other day, the dreamy look in his unfocused blue eyes gave him away as easily as a spoken confession, and Stan was willing to bet good money he knew who his partner had been.

He'd tried to mention Christophe to his friend again but every time he tried to warn him about the mercenary Craig got defensive and Stan was afraid he wouldn't listen at all if he pushed on carelessly. He had no idea what Christophe was thinking... Was it possible that he was overreacting and the man had changed? Maybe he wasn't in South Park to cause any trouble, at least not for them, and his encounter with Craig was pure coincidence. He was not religious but he was willing to pray for that to be the truth, perfectly aware he was lying to himself.

'A watched pot never boils.' Craig glanced at Stan, realizing he'd been caught while staring expectantly at the door. He turned his attention to the textbook he was pretending to read, but not before flipping Stan off. The other smirked, knowing Craig didn't mean the gesture, and continued taking inventory of the fish.

He hoped Christophe was one of those dicks who had casual sex and then disappeared. He knew Craig would suffer but it seemed a better alternative than getting killed... As if sensing there was an opportunity to fuck with him, the bell announced the arrival of a new customer. Stan turned to stare at the door almost as fast as Craig but unlike Craig he was most defiantly NOT happy at the sight. He recognised The Mole though he'd only caught a frugal glance of him before. He watched the mercenary walk towards Craig, completely ignoring his presence, with two cups in his hands. At least he was happy to note there was no shovel strapped to his back... He had no illusion the man was harmless though. That was as stupid as looking at the surface of the ocean and thinking there was nothing dangerous below it.

'For me?' Craig smiled, his eyes lighting up in a way which had Stan grinding his teeth. How the fuck was he ever going to convince his friend about the peril he was in if he had _that_ look in his eyes?!

'Oui. It's your favourite.' Christophe pressed his lips to Craig's before the other had a chance to react and Stan looked away, reflexively. Did they remember his existence at all? 'I also brought you a latte.' Craig accepted the drink, covering his goofy grin with the act of taking a sip.

'Thanks.' He wondered what he should say next. The other day had rocked Craig's tiny world and he'd feared Christophe didn't feel the same way when he woke up that morning alone. He was a light sleeper but he hadn't heard Christophe leave... He'd been happy in the morning, still riding the high of the after sex glow, but as the day progressed his thoughts turned to worries. He'd rehearsed all sorts of things he wanted to say to the other man if he saw him again but now that he had the chance he found his mind suddenly blank.

'It's not free 'owever.' Craig raised an eyebrow and Christophe gave him that leering look, the same one he'd used before and the student was certain his face was on fire.

'I'm not that cheap.'

'Yeah, you are.' Craig turned to stare at Stan, a look of surprise on his face. He actually had forgotten about the other's presence... Christophe didn't even flinch and continued to ignore Stan, despite his interruption.

'Mon cher, I need a favour.' Craig turned back to Christophe, his momentarily startled expression turning inquisitive. 'Go to your apartment and wait for me zere. I 'ave to zalk to your co-worker.' Craig frowned, turning to look from Christophe to Stan, who looked paler than before but determined.

'What about?...' Craig remembered all of Stan's attempts to warn him about Christophe and it didn't help his confusion. He hated getting involved in pointlessly messy situations, he'd made that clear in Peru, but he also hated being ignorant when he was part of the mess. For some reason trouble found him despite his fervent wish to be as plain and boring as humanly possible.

'Zat is between him and I.' Craig understood that was the end of the conversation and despite every fibre of his being telling him to argue the point further he eventually nodded his consent. Stan didn't protest so he guessed it was okay... What was the worst that could happen anyway? He shoved his book into his bag and swung it over his back, remembering to pick the latte back up at the last minute.

'I'll wait for you.' Christophe nodded and Craig left.

Stan didn't dare tear his eyes away from Christophe's figure. The mercenary was looking at the door through which Craig just left, an undecipherable look on his face. He still ignored Stan and frankly the other was getting fed up of it. Afraid or not he was still Stan Marsh damn it!

'I brought you zis. It's not poisoned.' Stan's mouth snapped shut like a sprung trap. Whatever he was going to ask died on his tongue and he stared at the extended hand holding the second cup. He recognised the logo on it as belonging to the Green Apple Cafe, Craig's favourite place. He'd been there a few times and he had to admit they made a neat mocha, especially when he made it Irish afterwards...

'Why?' Christophe turned to glare at him and Stan regretted saying anything.

'Just zake the fucking drink beech.' Biting down a snappy retort, Stan accepted the cup and, under the piercing glare of the assassin, took a tentative seep. It was perfect, down to the added whiskey, and he got Christophe's message loud and clear. If it was this easy to figure out a random drink he sometimes favoured, how easy would it be for him to uproot all of Stan's life? Whatever secrets he had, Christophe could find them out. Whoever he cared for, Christophe could find them out. The usually pleasant taste of mocha suddenly made Stan want to retch.

'Why are you here?' Christophe smiled slowly but there was no humour in his eyes.

'I'm 'ere on a mission to kill someone. Relax, it's not you zis time.' Stan glared at the cocky mercenary. His growing anger was giving him strength and he was grateful for that. He placed the drink on the nearest shelf, already looking forwards to throwing it away.

'Craig?' The Frenchman was quiet for a handful of seconds and Stan knew he'd hit the nail on the head. So much for hoping for a miracle...

'Oui.' The admission was barely a whisper and Stan wondered why he detected a note of regret in the other's voice. Maybe this wasn't such a lost cause after all...Craig was still alive and he was certain Christophe had plenty of chances to end his mission by now.

'How much did you tell him? Does he know what you are?' Christophe crossed his arms in front of his chest, everything about him radiating a threat.

'Non and he doesn't need to know. I won't kill 'im.' Stan tried to make sense of this. He didn't know a lot about being an assassin but he doubted it was one of those gigs you could just pick and choose at... He'd watched enough television to know things rarely ended well for the assassin and the target when they got cold feet.

'You care about him.' It wasn't a question and judging by Christophe's openly hostile look Stan knew he was right. Just when he thought things couldn't get any more fucked up! 'You have a really fucked up way of showing it dude. You care about him so you get him killed?!'

'You don't know what you're talking about.' Christophe tried to stay calm, he really did, because he knew Craig would never forgive him if he killed his friend but it was difficult. He still hated Stan for getting him killed though he knew the only one really at fault was Cartman. Oh...if he ever crossed paths with that fat bitch again he was going to put his shovel to excellent use.

'I know more than Craig.' A heavy silence settled over them while Christophe considered the best way to murder Stan Marsh. He knew the other was speaking the truth and it was adding fuel to his fire. There was nothing he could say to defend himself against the accusations because they were true and he hated Stan for reminding him of his problems. 'Look Mole, I know you're not evil and I know Craig cares for you. I don't want to hurt him but if you don't come clean and tell him the whole story, I will.'

'Try it. I dare you.' Christophe moved too fast for Stan to react and he had his fists bunched in the hem of his shirt. Stan had time to widen his eyes. 'I will kill you and everyone you care for if you do zat.' Stan gulped but he was determined to do right by Craig.

'I care about Craig you ass! He deserves to know the truth!' Christophe gritted his teeth and pushed Stan back forcefully, taking some satisfaction when the other hit the neatly stacked shelves, sending various pet foods sprawling across the floor.

'Stay out of zis beech, for your own sake.' Stan stood a little straighter, his rage turning piping hot. He didn't like being threatened, especially by a guy only one year his senior who thought a gardening tool was a weapon.

'Or what Mole? You're going to kill me? You already said that but I'm still standing. You have until the end of the day to tell Craig or so God help me, I will and I doubt I'll paint you in a positive light.' Christophe raised an eyebrow, a little surprised Stan had the nerve to stand up to him like that. Bigger, stronger men than him didn't. Good. He'll be able to use Stan in the future and now he could trust the other had the balls to do what had to be done. He grinned to himself, enjoying Stan's obvious confusion, satisfied the other passed his test.

'You should be careful when you use zat title. It might bright you to ze attention of some...unpleasant people.' The Mole had no shortage of enemies after all. Christophe DeLorn on the other hand could still walk the streets without fear of being watched through a sniper's viewfinder. Stan blinked a few times, unable to understand the inexplicable change in Christophe's attitude, and by the time he found his voice again the other was already at the door.

'Wait! Are you going to tell Craig?' Christophe's silence was his only answer.

* * *

><p>'Say something please...' Christophe couldn't take the silence a second longer. Craig had been staring at him, petrified on his seat, for the better part of an hour. It had been a good decision on Christophe's behalf to bid him sit down before starting his story or Craig was certain he would have crashed to the ground instead.<p>

'What do you want me to say?' Christophe just finished telling him he was a mercenary for hire and was currently dealing in assassinations and he expected Craig to react how? Happy? What was more, Craig just found out he was on someone's black list and Christophe was hired to kill him. If that didn't earn him an hour's time to digest then he didn't know what would. He just found out he had less than three days of life left!

'Anything.'

'Is this why you slept with me?' The thought just entered Craig's calculations and he looked at Christophe, betrayal dulling the light in his eyes even before the other answered.

'Non! You 'ave to believe zat! At first I admit I was zinking it would be fun but zen I got to know you and... zings changed.' Christophe didn't know how to say it better. He wasn't the best at conveying his fucked up emotions. He didn't open up to many... And the majority of those betrayed him so he had to kill them in the end. Gregory was the only one who still lived and knew him, truly knew him.

'Why are you telling me this now? Why not just kill me and get it over with?' Craig's voice was shockingly calm and he quizzed Christophe with all the composure of someone asking for another's favourite colour.

'Because I can't kill you anymore. 'Owever that doesn't mean you're safe. The beeches I work for will just send another in my place once zis week is over.' Christophe clamped his jaws shut, feeling the muscles jump out at the force of it. He'd already vowed that whatever unfortunate bitch dared cross his path would suffer a swift and painful death. Unless they sent him...

'So either way I'm dead.' Craig might as well have asked if tomorrow was really Saturday. Christophe wondered if Craig was in shock because he couldn't find another logical explanation for his easy acceptance of the unfair facts.

'I will not let zat 'appen.' The two locked eyes and Craig nodded slowly after a little while.

'This is all a little too much to take in all at once so can we change the subject for a while? I'm sure I'll have more questions for you later but I just can't deal with this right now.' Craig was not reacting to the news how Christophe had expected at all. He didn't know what came next and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, hoping Craig wouldn't tell him to leave. He had every right and Christopher would respect his wishes but he didn't want to leave the other unprotected this close to the deadline. He wouldn't put it past the old geezers to send another assassin early. They had no honour.

'Sure...'

'You know everything there is to know about me but I know nothing about you. I think it's only fair we change that, right?' Christophe scoffed. There was defiantly more to Craig Tucker than met the eye. Anyone else who would be told they were nearly out of time and sitting face to face with their killer no less would rightfully freak-out but Craig wanted to get to know the man sent to assassinate him? What a character...

'True. Ask your questions and I will answer zem as 'onestly as I can.' Christophe lit a cigarette, forgetting to ask Craig for permission first, and let the smoke cloud his lungs. Fortunately Craig had no issue with Christopher smoking in his apartment though it was against the landlady's rules. Well, fuck her. Craig didn't even spare a thought for her stingy ass.

'What is your favourite colour?' Christophe nearly choked on the inhaled smoke. Admittedly, he'd expected questions about his profession and the people who wanted Craig dead not trivia like his favourite colour... He shook his head.

'Brown but not zat 'orrible dark kind. The colour of earth after rain. Zat is my favourite colour.' Craig thought that suited Christophe like a glove.

'Why are you called The Mole?' Christophe had mentioned his assassin title while giving his account but he hadn't mentioned his weapon of choice.

'Because my expertise lie in covert missions and I'm quite 'andy with a shovel. I also use it to kill more zan I do a gun.' Craig flinched at that last part but didn't show any other signs of aversion.

'I see. When did you leave France?' Christophe didn't like remembering that period of his life but he promised he'd be honest so he answered without hesitation.

'My father cheated on my mother and she left 'im when I was nine. We moved to South Park.' Craig widened his eyes at that but didn't interrupt. 'We lived 'ere until I turned twelve but zen my mother died in a car accident and I ran away before the government could stick me in a shitty orphanage. Or maybe zey would have forced my dad to zake care of me. Either way, I 'ad no intention of sticking around to find out. At that point I was already quite good at 'andling a shovel and enjoyed playing at being a mercenary. Do you remember zat summer when the USA declared war on Canada and Terrence and Philip were executed?' Craig nodded that he did. 'Who do you zink got your friend inside ze military camp?' Craig vaguely remembered that summer, having supressed the memory like so many of his friends, but he did recall Stan mentioning something about a mole at one of the La Resistance meetings. 'It wasn't 'ard for me to find jobs others didn't want to do and I was good at them so I made a name for myself.' Christophe realized he'd done more than answer the question and tried to remember the last time he'd spilled his guts like that to someone else. He could not.

'I'm sorry about...your mom.' Christophe's lips twisted into a bitter smile.

'Ha! Zat makes one of us.' If he was being honest he'd been glad when the police showed up at his house to tell him there had been a terrible accident. His mother hated him and didn't bother hiding it. He reminded her too much of the man who left her for another woman. Frankly he was jealous his father got away while he still had the chance and resented him for leaving him with her.

'Are you a cat person or a dog person?' Craig decided to change the subject again and swim back to calmer waters. He could tell Christophe didn't want to remember those things, the pain was obvious on his face.

'I fucking 'ate dogs! Zey are the scourge of zis planet!' Craig burst into a fit of laughter at the passion in Christophe's voice. Defiantly not a dog lover there... Christophe waited patiently for Craig to finish and ask his next question.

'Do you have any brothers or sisters?'

'Non. I do 'ave a 'alf-sister zanks to my dad but I never met 'er.'

'Do you ever plan to meet her?' Christophe was silent for a moment, considering the question. Finally he answered.

'Non.' His father had left for a reason. He'd never made any effort to get back in contact with them or get to know his son. For all Christophe cared he could go straight to hell with his new family right after him. He knew he was being unfair but he didn't give a shit.

'Are you tired?' Craig felt drained so suddenly he wondered if some divine power didn't just suck the energy out of him. He felt like he could fall asleep on the uncomfortable chair he was currently occupying at the snap of a finger.

'Oui. Let's go to bed so we can zink better tomorrow.' Craig nodded, letting Christophe lead him to the bed. He didn't tell the mercenary to leave...

* * *

><p><strong>Well, now the cat's out of the bag... And if u're thinking Craig didn't freak out enough, wait until the next chapter... XD I hope you liked update no. 6 and please let me know if that is (or is not) the case! <strong>

**HAVE A LOVELY DAY! **


	7. Chapter 7

_**Warning: MATURE SEXUAL CONTENTS! (YAY!), Some Bad Language, Some Violence (all the good stuff...) **_

_**Hello! I hope you've been well! I have NOT been well, but that's my cross to bear... GOD DAMN COLLAGE! Sigh... Either way, I can vent by writing FanFiction so my misery should work out well for you guys. XD I hope you enjoy this update and please R&R. Thanks in advance! ENJOY! **_

_**7**_

Christophe woke to the sound of soft mutterings. As soon as the sound drifted to his ears he was in full alert mode, still getting used to waking up next to someone who didn't want to stick a knife in his back. A moment later he remembered where he was and he relaxed, a relieved sigh escaping his lips. He rubbed the last remains of sleep from his eyes and glanced at the space beside him. That side of the bed was empty and he frowned before he heard another string of senseless mutterings from the adjacent room. His frown deepened as he slid out of bed, hissing as his feet touched the cold floor. He'd slept in trenches during winter before but he didn't remember even them being this cool to the touch...

He rubbed some warmth into his bare arms, glancing at the heap which contained his previously tossed clothes. Like Craig, he preferred sleeping in as few clothes as possible. He would have slept naked if Craig hadn't asked him to at least keep his boxers on... He considered getting dressed but changed his mind when his sharp ears caught a third wave of whispers. He glanced at the clock and realized it was barely the break of dawn. What could have possibly possessed Craig to be up at that hour on a Saturday no less? Only then did Christophe remember their last conversation... His hands fell by his side and he cautiously moved towards the other, the morning chill momentarily forgotten.

Craig looked almost insane and Christophe paused in the doorway. The student was pacing around the kitchen counter, his steps not quite a sprint but not a leisurely stroll either. He was naked with the exception of his boxers and Christophe could only wonder why Craig wasn't frozen to death yet. He could see the flesh was sickeningly pale even in the dark but Craig didn't seem troubled by it. His eyes looked unfocused or perhaps focused on something Christophe couldn't see. Craig's teeth chattered, his body unable to completely block out the cold, pausing only when the tongue behind them strived to release a torrent of mutters. Christophe was close enough to make out some of the words but they didn't seem to make much sense when put together. He watched Craig for a moment, waiting for the other to react to his presence, but when that didn't happen he cleared his throat. Craig blinked and stopped talking to himself but didn't slow his pacing.

'Craig? Can you 'ear me?' He wondered if perhaps Craig was sleep walking, though there had been no mentions of that in his report. The strain of finding himself in his current predicament could have caused a psychotic break... Christophe's active imagination started picturing the worst.

'Yes I can hear you. I didn't mean to wake you up.' Christophe released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

'You didn't. I don't sleep much. Force of 'abbit.' Craig slowed a moment at that before picking up his pace. Christophe moved his weight from one foot to the other, his body yearning to move and get warm. Perhaps that was why Craig paced so but then why didn't he just get dressed?... ' 'Ow long 'ave you been up?' Craig shrugged vaguely. He honestly couldn't remember, just that he had to think things over or he was going to suffer a panic attack. He wasn't used to losing his calm like that and it frankly scared ten hells out of him. 'Aren't you cold?'

'I'm fine.' A blind man could see Craig was not fine but Christophe didn't know how to gently approach the subject. He was far out of his depth.

'Craig, what's wrong?' Craig stopped so suddenly, Christophe fought the impulse to take a step back at the unexpected reaction. The younger man whirled around and fixed the Mole with a burning glare as powerful as any he'd ever used on those who crossed his path.

'_What's wrong_? Did you really just ask me, _what's wrong_?!' Craig felt like he was losing his sanity and not the slow, easy kind of loss. Everything was falling around him like an avalanche, so fast he couldn't even tell what was really happening. One day his biggest worry was passing a stupid exam, the next he was struggling to make peace with not even living long enough to fail that fucking exam. The ground below his feet which had seemed so solid a few hours ago seemed to melt and he was struggling to stay upright just a little longer before the inevitable fall. What wasn't wrong?!

'I-' Craig didn't give Christophe time to finish whatever he was going to say to justify himself.

'You know, one thing I've always tried to do was stay out of trouble. I always thought the guys were morons for going looking for it and then complaining that they were tangled in some fucked up situation. I mean, I'm not naive enough not to get that sometimes shit just happens, I learned that the hard way in Peru, but I always thought that once I grew up I left all that behind. I thought that if I just kept my head down and got a good degree and a good job, everything will turn out just fine. But no! You had to fuck everything up!' Christophe bit down on his instinct to argue. He let Craig vent, aware the other was not really angry with him but with the situation. They both knew it wasn't Christophe who painted a target on Craig's back but he was the only one there so he had to shoulder the blame.

'I'm sorry-'

'No you're not fucking sorry! This is what you do! You're a mercenary, a murderer! What was your name again? Mole?'

'Oui.' Craig scoffed and shook his head, taking a step towards the silent Frenchman. Christophe could practically see the rage radiate off Craig like a murderous aura. It felt unnatural seeing someone so usually level-headed act so chaotically.

'I have two days to live. It's Saturday. What the fuck am I supposed to do? Should I tell my parents that I won't be seeing them again? Should I make a will? Maybe I should gather all that money I saved up for a future which will now never happen and buy myself a really cool coffin. Shit, it's not like I'll have another opportunity to spoil myself! And you ask me what's wrong?... Fuck you!' Craig's middle finger shot up between the two heated bodies, the raging blood pumping through their veins heating them like furnaces, and Christophe glanced at the offending gesture for a fleeting second. His fingers itched to grasp Craig's wrist and break it and he had to remind himself that this was not just anyone insulting him. This was someone he cared about and he didn't want to hurt them. He regarded Craig with a cool expression, a thin veil of calm to hide the magmatic heat underneath.

'Are you done?' Craig gritted his teeth and Christophe took that as a yes. He opened his mouth to urge Craig to hear him out, that he had a plan, but he forgot all about that when Craig spoke again.

'Kill me.' Christophe's jaw remained unhinged for a moment, the record of his brain replaying the demand over and over but making no more sense of it.

'Wh-What?' Craig lowered his arm, the middle finger relaxing by his side along with his other digits.

'Kill me. It's going to happen soon anyway so just get it over with. That's why you're here, right?' Craig's suddenly seemingly unperturbed calm was the most shocking thing of all and it caught Christophe completely off guard.

'You don't know what you're asking!' Craig scowled and shoved his hand against the mercenary's chest.

'I know exactly what I'm asking! I'm already dead, you said it yourself and I don't want to die like an idiot while picking out groceries so just fucking end it! You're a murderer. This should be second nature to you by now.' Christophe failed to hide how much the words stung him and he failed to hold his anger in check any longer.

'Stop before it's too late.' The threat was obvious and Christophe's low tone made it all the more dangerous. A flicker of fear flashed in Craig's gaze but it was quickly swallowed by his sweltering glare.

'You can't do it, can you? Lost your spine?-' Christophe's hand shot out with dizzying speed. The fingers were wrapped around Craig's throat like constricting serpents before the other had time to finish his sentence. Craig managed a weak gasp, his eyes firmly locked on Christophe, but didn't try to free himself. His hands stayed compliantly by his side as Christophe tightened his grip, feeling the pulse jump below his fingers. He remembered that same pulse weakening below his death grip while Craig was asleep and he growled in frustration. He couldn't do it then and he sure as hell couldn't do it now but Craig needed to see it for himself. He needed to know for certain Christophe wouldn't change his mind and carry out his mission because he doubted he could bear dying at the Frenchman's hands, all the time trusting the other had his best interests at heart.

Christophe suddenly pulled the other towards him, crushing their lips together with enough force to cut his lip on his own teeth. He tasted his own blood as his tongue deftly pried Craig's mouth open and shot inside, letting the other taste the bitterness. His fingers were still coiled around Craig's neck but the grip slackened and the other could breathe easy though he found his lungs were unable to hold the life sustaining oxygen. Craig lost himself in the despair, in the urgency of the assassin's kiss. He didn't know when he moved his arms but suddenly he was grasping at messy brown hair, pressing himself closer to the more muscular body. He didn't realize they were moving but all of a sudden he was pressed firmly against the wall, his back hitting the hard surface with enough force to make him groan.

'You are not going to die, not while I'm alive! Understand?' Craig managed a weak nod, taken aback by the ferocity of the other's words, but it was enough to satisfy the mercenary. Their lips crashed together again, each one seeking the other's warmth with a desperation known to few. Craig's legs fell open of their own accord, winding around the Mole's hips as he pressed their bodies closer yet, forcing the student into the wall.

In that moment they were both glad they decided not to get dressed, each content to feel the heat of the other body against their skin. Christophe moved his lips to Craig's throat, kissing the angry red lines his fingers left behind. He knew they would leave a bruise but it would be faint and wouldn't hurt much. He'd stopped himself just before bruising Craig's windpipe but he felt sorry even for the hurt skin. He ran his tongue soothingly along the fresh injury, vowing this would be the last time he ever raised his hand to Craig in anger. Craig was light and he was able to hold him with only one arm and the aided support of the wall, giving his other hand the freedom to travel down the exposed flesh of his chest and stomach. He felt Craig shiver at his touch and he knew this had nothing to do with the cold. When he reached the resistance of Craig's chequered boxers he didn't slow down and let his hand journey even lower.

'Fuck!' Craig's profanity made Christophe grin against his skin and he bit softly on the pale shoulder to show his approval. He spotted the faint remains of a mark he'd left on Craig's skin the first night they had sex and he worked to revitalise it. His fingers wound around the hardening length and gave it an experimental squeeze. Craig automatically bucked his hips forwards, eager to feel more. Christophe groaned when the other began whispering his name into his ear, the hot breath doing things to the mercenary which set his flesh ablaze. His teeth scraped playfully against Craig's jaw as his hand continued to move, the pace picking up all the while along with the student's moans. Craig managed a pathetic warning before Christophe felt the other's seed coat his hand. He pumped the length a few more times until he was certain Craig was fully spent. He left a soft, slow kiss on the panting younger man's lips, relishing the sated state his touch brought on.

'What about you?' Christophe grinned when he felt Craig's hand tentatively touch his own neglected erection.

'Who said zis was over? I still 'ave plans for you...'

* * *

><p>Christophe let another smoky breath out, absentmindedly watching the smoke curl above his head. He watched the darkened air drift, as if driven by a conscious thought, to the crack in the window and escape into the night air. Craig told him he'd broken the window accidentally one day when Stan was over and they were horsing around. He didn't specify what that horsing was exactly but Christophe got a fairly good idea from the spreading blush and Craig's sudden interest in the floor at his feet. He turned his gaze from the crack to look at the man he was willing to throw all his principals right out the proverbial window for. Well, perhaps principle wasn't the right word... A man like him didn't really have principles. He did however have convictions and killing Craig went against those.<p>

Craig was out cold and Christophe couldn't help taking credit for that. Craig was awake when he lit his cigarette but he was barely half way through and the other was lost in dreamland. He leaned over and planted an uncharacteristically gentle kiss on the other's forehead, noting the constellation of marks descending down his neck. His marks. He looked at the sleeping face for a while longer before sitting up again and quietly sliding from under the covers. Fuck, he forgot how cold that floor was! He swallowed the curse on the tip of his tongue and hastily walked to where his trousers were, fishing around until he found his phone. He'd meant what he promised to Craig before. He wasn't going to let some bitch who fancied themselves an assassin kill his target, not while he was alive and knowing the laughable level of skill his employers deemed good he wagered that would be for a long time yet.

With the cigarette between his lips and fingers almost stiff from the cold, he typed a message and pressed the sent button. Once that was done he happily slid back under the covers, finishing his cigarette and throwing the bud through the crack before that. The movement caused Craig to shift his position and Christophe welcomed the heat of the other body as it pressed against him. He wasn't going to sleep that night. He had less than two days to come up with a plan which would keep Craig alive and while he didn't fear most of the bitches who thought they could take him on, there was one who could cause trouble. He knew they would send him... And he knew he couldn't get cocky when that happened, not while Craig could be caught in the cross fire.

Nope, he wasn't going to get any sleep that night.

* * *

><p>Stan nearly knocked over the bedside table in his haste to reach his phone. As soon as the device lit up to say he had a new message he shot up in bed. He'd been twisting and turning all night long anyway. He'd tried to call Craig a million times, despite knowing his phone was still frozen. He'd even called his landlady! She told him it wasn't her job to deliver messages and that if he called her again for that she would ban him from entering the building. What a bitch! He wasn't even sure if that was legal... He couldn't get his conversation with the Mole out of his head. He knew Christophe said he wouldn't hurt Craig but he found it hard to take a mercenary's word at face value. Call it scepticism but he trusted very few at face value. He stared at the screen, reading the message before letting out a relieved sigh. Well at least Craig was still alive...<p>

'_He knows. We will come by your house later today, be ready. _

_-The Mole' _

Stan groaned inwardly. Great. All he needed right then was for the Mole to pay him a social visit, though he highly doubted that was the reason for his stopping by. At least he had the house to himself since his parents were going to see some movie with the Stotches. He wondered what Christophe meant by the 'be ready' bit. Be ready for what? What exactly did that crazy Frenchman have in mind? Whatever it was Stan knew it wasn't good, for him anyway.

He decided to cross that bridge when he got to it and placed the phone back on the nightstand, moving with far less urgency this time. He felt a sudden wave of exhaustion wash over him. His nerves had been pulled taut for hours now, ever since he tasted that mocha. Despite the meaning of it Stan actually finished it in the end, unable to bring himself to throw the tasty beverage away. Each mouthful served to remind him that he was being an idiot. If he had half a brain he would have called the police or told someone at least. But every time he considered this he dismissed it because it probably would just worsen things. He doubted Christophe would react nicely if he was pushed into a corner and Craig was the closes to him so…

Stan closed his eyes and ran his palms over his tired face. He was not in the mood to go down that rabbit hole again and he doubted he had the energy to do more than twist and turn in continuous circles anyway. He needed to sleep and recharge for whatever Christophe had in mind. It was barely Saturday morning and he already wished the day was over.

* * *

><p><strong>Ta-Dah! Well, I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! (or more!) until next time, <strong>

**HAVE A LOVELY DAY!**


	8. Chapter 8

**_As usual, since it's Saturday here's an update! I hope you like it and (as an incentive) remember, Gregory's appearance is just around the corner. XD Thank you very much for the reviews so far! Please keep them coming because I depend on them... My sanity depends on it! ENJOY! _**

_**8**_

Stan eyed the other two on the sly, or at least what he thought was on the sly. They occupied the sofa in his living room, leaving him to take the matching couch. He couldn't help shifting his eyes between the two. Them together certainly wasn't what he'd expected, especially after he found from Christophe that Craig knew the whole story. What was even more puzzling was the closeness of the two. If anything, the truth seemed to have brought them closer together! The Mole's hand rested casually but protectively around Craig's shoulder, holding the other close to him, not that his friend seemed to mind. He had to admit, Craig was stronger than he'd given him credit for. No way he could have looked so relaxed while knowing he was on some assassin's hit list... But then again, he knew Craig wore his unconcerned poker face when he was feeling most anxious so perhaps he wasn't as calm as he wanted everyone to believe.

'I 'ave a plan.' Stan visibly flinched at the sound of the other's voice. They'd been silent for so long he'd forgotten they could speak at all...

'Oh yeah?' Christopher nodded slowly, his narrowed eyes fixed on Stan as if ready to slice his throat at the first sign of disagreement. He hoped the guy wouldn't really do that with Craig around...

'Yeah. I 'ave been working on it for days now and while it's not fail proof, it's the best I can manage in such a short time and with no resources. We are running out of time.' Craig twisted under Christophe's arm so he could look him in the eye.

'Days?' Christopher regarded the piercing blue eyes for a moment, silently admiring their beauty to himself.

'Oui. I knew I wouldn't be able to finish zis mission since Wednesday. In all 'onesty, I guess I knew since ze moment I accepted it.' Craig widened his eyes. He'd been under the impression Christophe only changed his mind recently, perhaps on a whim. He felt his heart tighten, almost painfully, and he wished they would have met under different circumstances. He'd never felt this strongly about anyone before but of course he had to fall for a mercenary out for his blood... Just his usual luck.

'Why would you have doubts about killing me before you knew me?' Christophe sighed and pulled out a folded photo from his pocket, handing it to Craig. The other accepted it and slowly revealed the picture, his puzzlement deepening when he realized he was staring at a photo of himself. He glanced back at Christophe, losing himself in the depths of the wild green eyes.

'Ze first time I saw your picture I zought to myself you have very pretty eyes. I didn't like zis mission from ze beginning. Zere's no reason for my bosses to want you dead. Zose beeches 'ave been getting on my nerves for a while now and you turned out to be ze final straw.' Craig listened but couldn't stop thinking about what Christophe said about his eyes. He recalled the first time they met in person and he'd said something similar. Before realizing it, Craig was pressing his lips to Christophe's, letting them work their searing magic against each other. He shuddered happily when he felt strong hands press against his back, pulling him even closer and would have been happy to go even further had Stan not cleared his throat loud enough to make him jump back. He'd completely forgotten about his friend, again, and found he couldn't look Stan in the eye without blushing. Christophe looked annoyed at the interruption but otherwise showed no signs of discomfort.

'You mentioned a plan...' Stan didn't bother to hide his ire at the two. Here they were, all ready to face death and they thought of sex?! Admittedly, if he wasn't single perhaps his mind would swing the same way and perhaps this was the true reason behind his indignation but he wasn't about to admit that to himself and he certainly wasn't going to admit it to them!

'The company I work for employs roughly forty assassins, zough I'm not supposed to know zat. Like I said, I've been zinking of breaking loose for a while so I've done my research. I know all of them as well as zeir weaknesses and strengths. Of zose forty, about ten would be considered top class. I am...was one of zem. Of zose nine remaining we 'ave to fear one and they will send him. He is strong, perhaps as strong as me and he is smart. He never leaves anything up to chance which is why I'm worried. In a fair fight I would wipe the floor with zat beech but knowing him... Ze only 'ope we 'ave is to use zat against him. He knows I'll be here and he knows I understand 'ow he thinks. He'll expect me to set traps for him and try to get him in a fight. He won't expect me to lay low and he certainly won't expect a trap from you.' He pointed at Stan who blinked in response.

'Me?! I don't know the first thing about setting traps!'

'I know zat! I'll set ze trap tonight. All you have to do is spring it at ze right time. Zis man is unstoppable once he has his target in sight. Once he'll see Craig and make sure I'm not around he will go straight for him.'

'So... I'm bait.' Craig didn't seem daunted by the idea. He just wanted to make sure he got things straight. He thought he'd have to play such a role and Christophe's words didn't come as such a surprise really...

'Je suis désolé but zis is ze only way zis will work. You will be safe, I swear it.' Craig nodded, having already accepted the idea but still appreciating Christophe's reassurances.

'Okay... So what exactly do I have to do?' Christophe turned back to Stan whose head was spinning. He couldn't believe he was doing this. Not because this was the first time he'd been faced with a crazy situation, he was a South Parkateer after all, but because he was willingly trusting a man who promised to kill him one day. He'd done a lot of stupid things in his life but this had to win some sort of award. However he trusted the Mole cared for Craig. He'd seen the proof with his own eyes and it was damning.

'Zere is an abandoned apartment block to ze north of 'ere.' Both Stan and Craig knew what building he was talking about. That place had been empty for years and the mayor kept saying she was going to build new houses there but she never did. Stan doubted she ever will. 'Zat is where we will trap him. He is not reckless enough to go after Craig during the day so you must go zere in the evening. You have to make it look natural, like zis is something ordinary or he will suspect and not go. Marsh will be waiting zere. I will be a few blocks away, far enough for him to think he is safe. Zat is when you'll spring ze trap and catch him.' Stan waited for Christophe to add more.

'That's it? He'll fall for that? Isn't this some high class killer?' Christophe grinned a humourless grin.

'Oh he is. He killed more men zan I and I 'ave an impressive résumé. He will expect us to react accordingly and completely miss a simple trap such as zis. Normally, something like zis would never work on him but it will zis time.' Christophe sounded so certain, the other two were inclined to believe. It wasn't like they had another plan anyway... And they were running out of time. It was nearly the end of Saturday. They had just over twenty-four hours left before judgement day arrived.

'Who is this guy?' Christophe eyed Stan as if considering whether he was worthy of the answer.

'His name is Gregory.' Stan was stunned. His entire expression seemed to freeze as Christophe took in the shocked reaction with no hint of surprise on his part. Craig looked from one man to the other, confusion evident on his face.

'Do you know him Stan?' Stan's mouth began moving as he spoke but his face remained frozen, his eyes glued to Christophe's unblinking ones.

'Yeah. He was in our class for a few weeks, don't you remember? During the war with Canada?' Craig raked his brain but couldn't remember any details. He vaguely remembered there had been one and he didn't like him but that was the extent of his recollection.

'What did he look like?' Stan drew a quick breath, his gaze wavering for a moment. He missed seeing Christophe raise an eyebrow.

'He had curly blond hair and blue eyes. He was British and had the accent to prove it.' Realization suddenly flashed in his friend's eyes.

'Right! Wasn't he that arrogant kid who dated Wendy for a while?' Stan pressed his lips together in a thin, annoyed line and his trance-like petrification ended.

'Yeah, that's him. Prick went to Yardale and wanted everyone and their mother to know he had a 4.0 grade point average.' Craig was taken aback by Stan's sudden scowl. Perhaps he held a grudge for this Gregory because he dated Wendy? But Stan was gay so why would he care this much?...

'I remember him now. He only stayed in our class for a few weeks before he moved to a different school. Something about his parents traveling a lot.'

'Probably thought we were too stupid for him.' Stan practically glowered and Craig was glad the guy was on their side. He had no idea what triggered the other's sudden rage but he knew it only sharpened Stan's resolution. One of the reasons why Stan was so good on the field was because nothing could get between his desire to win and his focus to make that happen. Craig saw him in a few games and pitied the players who went up against a Marsh.

'Craig, zere is a bag in the trunk of the car containing blueprints of the apartment black. We need it in order to begin working on ze trap. Can you get it please?' Craig knew from the low tone of Christophe's voice that it wasn't really a question. The mercenary hadn't taken his eyes off of Stan for an instant and whatever he had to say next Craig understood he didn't need to hear it.

'Sure.' He got up and went, leaving the two alone while he procrastinated outside for a while until they finished whatever secret conversation they wanted to have. He hoped they weren't planning on gossiping about him behind his back... He knew it was just a silly notion he told himself to lighten the mood but he indulged the fantasy as he closed the front door behind him.

'I see you're still zinking with your dick instead of your brain.' Stan frowned at the Mole.

'What are you talking about?' Christopher smirked, his fingers mechanically bringing a cigarette to his lips. Stan knew his parents would be furious if they smelled the smoke but he really didn't give a shit. He made no attempt to stop Christophe as the mercenary lit the cigarette and released thick smoke into the living room air.

'I am talking about you and Gregory.' Before Stan could object, Christopher continued. 'Don't bother denying it. You're as easy to read as an opened book. Let me make something clear Marsh.' He leaned closer and, though the coffee table still separated them, Stan felt like the other was invading his personal space. He resisted the urge to pull back. 'I don't give a sheet where you stick your dick but if you're compromised and can't spring zat trap I will kill you myself.'

'I thought you already promised to kill me and my friends.' Stan felt a bead of sweat run down the back of his neck. He mentally congratulated himself on keeping his composure so well and keeping his voice from shaking even a little.

'Yes well, I never really meant to carry out zat threat. Perhaps when I made it and was still full of rage at you beeches but I've let go of zat over ze years. 'Owever if I see ze fat one, Cartman, I can't promise you I won't change my mind.'

'You have my blessing in that.' Stan felt a weight he hadn't even realized was there lift from his shoulders. Up until that point he'd suspected Christophe was willing to let bygones be bygones but he'd never had proof. It felt great to hear the actual words.

'I am not kidding about killing you now if you fail Craig.' Stan could see the truth of that in the thunderous, merciless depths of the Mole's eyes. If the eyes really were windows to one's soul then he shuddered to think what sort of insanity lived inside the mercenary's being. This was not someone he was eager to mess with.

'I won't. Craig is my friend too and I volunteered for this. I'm risking my life for him too.' Christophe held his gaze a moment more before nodding. He kept it to himself that Stan never really had a choice. He was in the plan the moment Christophe deemed him good enough. His 'volunteering' was a mare illusion but if that helped the student sleep at night then Christophe was happy to keep the piece of information to himself.

'Good.' That was the end of that conversation and Christophe inhaled a smoky breath, hoping Stan's resolve would be enough. Gregory had a way of talking his way out of things and getting inside people's minds. Nobody knew that better than him. If Stan was already susceptible to his charms then that could prove problematic.

'Are you going to kill him?' Stan's voice was barely a whisper and had they been anywhere nosier Christophe would have completely missed it.

'Who? Gregory? Non. He has information I need about why zey are targeting Craig. Besides, I zink I can convince him to join us but if not, I will 'ave no choice. I can't leave such a dangerous threat to go free. He won't fall in a trap a second time.'

'I thought as much.' If he was being honest with himself, Stan hoped it wouldn't come to that. He didn't know what he hoped with happen but he hoped it wouldn't end up with Gregory dead. He knew he was being an idiot but the men in the Marsh family were rarely smart...

'Um, I have the bag?' Craig poked his head through the door, deliberately phrasing the statement like a question. Christophe smiled warmly at him and beckoned him inside. Stan marvelled at the genuine show of affection on the Mole's face and knew now more than ever that Christophe would do anything in his power to protect Craig.

'Zank you.' Christophe opened the duffel bag and pulled out a few scrolls of paper. Underneath them Stan caught a glimpse of the thing which had been missing from the mercenary ever since he'd bumped into him while leaving the pet store. There, as deceivingly harmless as ever, was the Mole's shovel. Stan knew it was the same one he'd seen Christophe use when they were children. He recognised some of the scratches on the wood, as telling as scars on flesh. He wondered how Christophe had had the strength to wield the tool so effortlessly when he was a boy... He could only imagine what the mercenary could do with it now.

'We will set ze trap 'ere, on the fourth floor. Craig will lead him zere. He won't attack until he will 'ave you in a clear line of sight and if I know him well, he will use his cutlass. Zat means he won't show 'imself while you are climbing the stairs but he will be zere. Whatever you do, you mustn't let him know you are aware of his presence. He won't expect such an obvious trap but he is still highly trained. The smallest hint of danger and he will be gone. If zat happens we are all dead.' Christophe's words hung grimly in the air. They all understood what was at steak and the two younger men nodded slowly. Christophe was pleased to see determination in their eyes.

'Now for ze tricky part. We 'ave to lay ze trap tonight and you will 'ave to wait in the building until Gregory arrives.'

'You want me to sleep there?' Stan hoped Christophe was joking but knew damn well he was not. Spending the night in some decrepit hell hole was not part of the deal! Not that there was a deal per say but he really didn't look forwards to that.

'Oui. Don't worry, ze dark won't 'urt you but if you don't do as I say, I will.' Stan grumbled something unintelligent but gave his assent, albeit begrudgingly. 'Craig you begin making your way to ze building at 7. I will be zere a 'alf 'our later. By zat time Gregory should be incapacitated and we can move to phase two.'

'What's phase two?' Christophe's expression darkened and Craig wondered if he said something wrong. He wished he could take back his question.

'Getting answers.'

* * *

><p><strong>LET THE FUN BEGIN! I'm having so much fun with this story... XD I hope you liked it and remember to write that review (if u have the time)! <strong>

**HAVE A LOVELY DAY! **


	9. Chapter 9

**Well, it's Wednesday and I couldn't wait to update! (First thing I did once I woke up...despite having a ton of history essays to read...sigh) Therefore make sure to leave a review so I don't feel like I completely wasted my time! XD No pressure... ENJOY! **

_**9**_

Christophe knew he was being watched. He could feel it in through a tingling sensation running up and down his back like flees. He brought the cup of fresh coffee to his lips, hiding a knowing smile. He had to admit, Gregory was getting too good at stalking people. Had Christophe not been expecting him he would have been oblivious to the Brit's presence. As it were, it was only his experienced instinct which told him he was the subject of the other's stare. He'd been looking but he hadn't caught so much as a glimpse of slicked back blond hair. He pretended to be lost in some deep thought, occasionally taking a gulp of his coffee, wondering how long Gregory would keep him under surveillance. He knew the other liked to be thorough but he doubted he had a lot of time to complete his mission.

Christophe had been right in assuming Gregory would start scouting his query early. It was still Sunday and technically speaking he was still on the clock but Gregory wasn't the type to wait his turn. He probably thought he was being so smart but Christophe was smart too and he'd told the others to get everything ready a day early. There was a chance Gregory won't go after Craig that night, content with making sure Christophe wouldn't get in the way, but he wasn't willing to take that risk. If Gregory left his watch he knew it would be to go after Craig. He just hoped the British bitch won't delay too much or else he'd miss the 'opportunity' to follow Craig to the trap.

He glanced surreptitiously to the clock on the Green Apple's wall. It was nearing half six. He could picture Craig pacing around his apartment, glancing at his own clock every ten seconds just to make sure he hadn't somehow missed his window. Another smile came to his lips and he didn't bother to hide this one. He hoped Stan was ready and wouldn't get cold feet. He'd given him clear instructions about how to act and where to wait. Finding out about Stan's infatuation with Gregory had been a surprise but Christophe hoped it wasn't strong enough to overpower his friendship with Craig. No...He had to trust in Stan's resolve. He had no choice.

With narrowed eyes he realized the feeling of being watched was gone. Gregory had left his watch. He glanced at the clock. It was a quarter to seven. Slowly he brought the third cup of the day to his lips and swallowed the last of the bitter contents. The plan was in motion.

* * *

><p>Craig left the building a just a little after seven. He didn't have the Mole's skills or his developed senses so he had no idea if he was being followed but he knew it wouldn't matter either way. He was supposed to plead ignorance after all and he convinced himself this was just another day. After pacing his bedroom countless times he fooled himself into temporarily believing that going to the abandoned apartment block was as habitual for him as frequenting the Green Apple. What he wouldn't have given for a cup of latte in that moment so it would steel him. He could practically feel the heat emanating from the paper cup...<p>

With a shiver, he pushed his hands deeper into the pockets of his hoodie and scrunched his neck into the yellow scarf wound tightly up to his nose. It was cold, even for South Park and Craig regretted not taking an extra jacket. He wanted to run, eager to reach his destination and warm up his limbs a little with the effort but that might set off one of Gregory's alarms, if he was even following. His part in this was the easiest and he was at least grateful to Christophe for that, besides his eternal gratitude for the mercenary risking his life to keep his from harm. All he had to do was bait Gregory into following up to the fourth floor. The rest would be up to Stan and he knew he could depend on his friend to pull his weight.

Fortunately the building wasn't too far off. It was within walking distance from his apartment and after turning another wide street he could see it. The place looked horrible, a monument to the mayor's embezzling. All the windows, as far as Craig could see, were shattered and where the walls had once been a spotless white a dirty gravy replaced them. He knew the floors were littered with debris from some caved in ceilings and, on the lower levels, syringes and used condoms. Clyde had dared him to go inside once and climb to the top level. He hadn't made it past the sixth floor. Only an idiot would endanger his life for a dare and he was no idiot. The top floors were in terrible condition since the roof leaked and the floorboards were loosened with water. He doubted they could hold a child's weight, much less his. The fourth floor should be fine though and it was high enough that passer-bys would be oblivious to anyone inside. He saw the haunted look in Christophe's eyes when he mentioned phase two and he doubted Gregory was going to enjoy his stay... if they managed to catch him.

The noise of the city centre began to thin out, most choosing to avoid the whole street where the abandoned building was. This particular side of town wasn't known for abiding by the law... Craig gritted his teeth and continued to move, not in the mood to think about the possibility of being stabbed as well. It was bad enough he probably had an assassin hot on his heels, he didn't need any extra trouble. A few women, he took to be prostituted from their revealing clothes, cast him interested looks but when he ignored them they did the same to him. They would have been more persistent if he looked like had cash but he didn't even look worth robbing. Maybe that was why he reached the building without any obstructions. He offered a silent thanks to his lucky stars as he slid past the broken door.

The gloomy inside swallowed him in its filmy corridor. There was just enough natural light filtering through the shattered windows for Craig to know where he was going but even if he was being followed and Gregory stood ten steps behind him he would have missed him. The sound of his steps bounced off the bare walls and echoed down the hallways. He didn't attempt to silence them though he nearly flinched when he accidentally kicked an empty bottle down the steps. The glass bounced off a few steps before it crashed on the concrete. He wasn't the jumpy sort but the deafening sound of that bottle braking in the absolute silence was eerie even for him. He thought he heard the scurrying of small feet somewhere to his left and realized there were probably entire generations of rats living inside the unkempt walls. He could only imagine what the upper levels looked like, unfrequented even by daring youths or junkies.

He felt sorry for Stan, having to spend the night alone in this place. As he reached the second floor, he couldn't help thinking about the sacrifice his friend was making for him. He and Stan had grown close since Kenny's death and then Kyle's move. Soon after Stan stopped hanging around Cartman too in favour of spending his time with Craig and they'd grown even closer. They're relationship reached its climax one evening when Craig was helping Stan with some homework and they somehow ended on the cough, making out. At first Craig had been surprised by Stan telling him he was gay but then things suddenly made more sense. His closeness to Kyle for one and his confusing relationship with Wendy. He knew Stan cared for the girl but he couldn't remember ever seeing true passion in their interactions. That evening, and later that night, he finally understood why. He and Stan were good friends, maybe even best friends, but he would have never expected the other to jump in the fire like that for him. He'd tried to talk Stan out of it after Christophe finished laying out his plan but if there was one thing Stan inherited from his father it was his stubbornness.

Craig reached the fourth floor and turned away from the winding steps, walking along the dark corridor instead. The light was thinner here and he was grateful Stan left the door of the right room open. He walked towards the weak ray of light reaching from the window inside. He resisted the urge to turn around and look if Gregory was following him. He remembered what Christophe said about the other waiting to catch Craig in a wide room so he could cut him down and realized the corridor would do the trick. Those few steps to the door were the longest of his life but finally he reached it and stepped through the shaft of light.

* * *

><p>Gregory felt the familiar hardness of his cutlass' hilt. His long fingers easily curved around the rounded handle, tightening their grip on the metal. He had his target in sight and if he so wished he could cut him down in the blink of an eye. Craig didn't seem to suspect anything but Gregory chose to bide his time. He was slightly intrigued about the student's choice of a final resting place and couldn't deny his curiosity at what was inside that room. After he'd made sure Christophe wasn't going to get in his way, he'd set out to kill Craig in his apartment. He'd reached the street just in time to catch a glimpse of Craig leaving down a narrow street. Normally he wouldn't have followed, unwilling to put himself at risk by entering unknown territory but this was a medical student, not an experienced fighter. The only thing he'd been weary of was Christophe and he didn't seem to hold any interest in protecting the boy... Besides, he didn't have all the time in the world. Unlike Christophe, he only had a day to kill the target. His employers were getting impatient.<p>

His steps were light as a feline's and didn't make a sound to disturb the silence. The scratching of the rats' hasty retreat was louder than his. The other assassins' nicknamed him the Silent Death because he could sneak up on anyone and have the sharp edge of his cutlass piercing their heart before the victim had a chance to gasp. He admitted he wasn't as strong in hand to hand combat as the Mole which was why he rarely gave his targets an opportunity to retaliate. Which was not to say he was helpless in a fight, far from it.

The notion of all this being a trap entered his mind but he dismissed it. He'd seen Craig's file. There was no evidence of the student having any background in that sort of stuff. He looked inside the room, seeing his target with his back to him, staring intently out the window. It was one of the very few rooms with the windows still intact. Gregory took a silent step closer, his hand drawing the cutlass out of its scabbard. Three steps in and the illusion of silence was shattered by a loud bang. Gregory whirled around to see a second man behind him, holding the door shut. Gregory had been so intent on the target he'd ignored his instincts altogether. The gas mask on the stranger's head confounded him for a second and that was enough. He saw something drop from the masked individual's hand and roll towards him. White clouds of smoke swirled out of the canister and Gregory's vision began to dim with the first accidental inhale.

He tried to draw out his sword but he couldn't make his fingers obey, all the strength gone out of his limbs. He managed to turn and look at Craig, only then noticing the student was also wearing a gas mask. He must have slipped it on when he entered the room and Gregory lost sight of him for a handful of seconds. He coughed as he felt himself fall to his knees. He felt light headed and dizzy and knew he was done for. He fell for the oldest trick in the book, knock out gas. This had Christophe written all over it and he smirked weakly to himself. The mercenary was going to get a laugh out of this one...

* * *

><p>Christophe reached the room just as the two were peeling off their masks. The window was open and the room was aired out. Without any worry of falling into their own trap, the two were free to remove the uncomfortable gas masks. Christophe let his sharp eyes survey the scene, noting that Craig was well and then catching sight of the unconscious assassin on the floor. The cutlass was half drawn and Christophe knew had they been a nanosecond later, Craig would be cleaved in half. He'd felt first-hand how sharp that blade was and seen how skilled Gregory was at handling it. One move meant one life.<p>

'You did well Stan.' Stan's eyes were also glued to the knocked out man and he nodded absent mindedly. Craig knelt by Gregory's body, checking to make sure the man really was asleep. Only an idiot took things for granted with the Silent Death. Those idiots usually didn't live long enough to reflect on their mistakes. Satisfied, he began searching the man for weapons. He carefully removed the cutlass, aware of its importance to Gregory. If he accidentally scratched it he could kiss a partnership with the man goodbye. The sword was some precious family heirloom and Gregory loved it as much as he loved his shovel. He also found a gun tucked in the waistband of his trousers and the accompanying reserve ammo strapped to his left ankle. He even found a hidden knife tucked inside his right sleeve. Christophe was all too familiar with Gregory's ways and he careful searched the cuffs of his shirt until he found the nearly invisible pins weaved into the material. With those Gregory would have been out of his handcuffs before his eyes had time to widen.

'How many weapons does he have?' Craig moved a little closer to him and Christophe smirked at the question.

'He was in a rush. Usually he has at least zree other knives 'idden on him.' Craig widened his eyes only now beginning to realize just who he'd had at his back for the better part of an hour. As if hearing his unspoken question Christophe added. 'You should see him zrow zem. I've never seen him miss his target.' Realizing what he'd said and who he'd said it too he hastily added another bit of information. 'But he doesn't like using his knives or gun unless he has no choice. He prefers his cutlass like I prefer my shovel. When you reach our level of skill you can afford to be picky.' He grinned at Craig, happy to see the tension ease slightly.

'So what now?' Christophe got to his feet and pulled Gregory's body with him, hosting it over a shoulder. Craig couldn't help noticing how the muscles worked below his loose shirt and mentally slapped himself for having those kind of thoughts then of all times.

'Now I make sure he can't get to you.' Christophe walked past the still petrified Stan into an adjacent room where a chair sat in the centre. There was nothing else in the emptied space. He dropped Gregory into the sturdy seat and brought the Brit's hands behind his back. He pulled a pair of silver handcuffs from his belt and slapped them on Gregory's pliant wrists, tightening the hold to the point he knew it would be uncomfortable. He couldn't afford to give Gregory even an inch. That was all he needed...

'Do you think someone else came with him?' Craig glanced over his shoulder self-consciously, almost expecting for another assassin to materialize out of the shadows and throw a knife in his direction. Christophe was working to tie Gregory's ankles to the legs of the chair with thick vines of rope.

'I doubt it. Gregory works alone most missions, like me. For now at least we are safe.' Christophe sat up, appraising his work until he was certain even Gregory would have a hard time getting out of that chair. Nobody tied knots as securely as him. 'Zere. Zat should 'old him.'

'Are you sure?' Christophe looked at Craig and saw the small but present worry in the light eyes. He curved his fingers under Craig's chin and prayed his eyes away from the assassin so their gazes met.

'Nothing will 'appen to you while I'm 'ere. Zat is a promise.' Craig swallowed audibly and Christophe placed a chaste kiss on the eager lips. He knew his message was received loud and clear when he saw new steal in the now calm eyes.

'I trust you.' Christophe grinned, a part of him wondering why anyone in their right mind would do that. Then again, he'd already confirmed Craig was an unusual character. He was one of the strongest people he'd ever seen. He doubted he'd ever met someone who adapted so quickly to the world of a mercenary without any background in the field whatsoever. It was admirable to say the least.

'Not ze smartest decision but we shall talk about zat later. You and Stan should get some sleep because once he wakes and phase two starts you won't 'ave a chance.' Craig didn't want to know what Christophe meant by that. He could make a fairly good guess and he chose not to think about it yet.

'Alright. I'll go tell Stan. What will you do?' Christophe crossed his arms over his chest.

'I will wait 'ere. I drank too much coffee anyway and won't sleep for a while.' Craig decided not to question that either. He nodded a silent goodnight which was returned with a short wave of Christophe's hand. The mercenary was already perching a cigarette between his lips before Craig had time to close the door behind him. When he entered the other room he was startled to find Stan standing in the exact same spot he'd left him in. He resembled a statue so much Craig wouldn't have been surprised if a pigeon flew through the open window and nested on the puffball of his hat. He neared his friend cautiously, a frown knitting his eyebrows together.

'Stan? You okay dude?' Stan startled as if only then realizing he wasn't alone and turned to Craig, his eyes going wide like when he'd been caught red-handed doing something bad.

'Huh? Oh, yeah! Everything good in there?' Stan pointed to the room where Christophe and Gregory were and Craig knew whatever was bothering the other would remain a secret for now. Stan wasn't ready to discuss it so he didn't push it.

'Yep. Christophe said we should get some sleep. He'll wait for Gregory to wake up in there.' Stan hummed, his eyes misting over again for a split second before he turned his back to the door and began walking towards the other row of rooms to the left. The apartment was quite spacy and they'd turned the other two vacant rooms into bedrooms. That is to say, they brought in three beds. Both Craig and Stan had been told they'd have to spend the night in those rooms once they caught Gregory. They couldn't risk attracting any unwanted attention to the abandoned building. They'd both agreed and Stan was grateful he wouldn't be sleeping in one of the rooms alone this time. The place was creepy! If Cartman was there he would have been crying for him mom already...

'If you wake up before me, wake me too.' Craig nodded that he would.

'Same goes for you.' Stan fell more than sat in 'his' bed. He'd barely slept the bight before and waiting for an assassin to show up was nerve wrecking... He was exhausted and he knew Craig was just as tired. He could see the dark circles under his friend's eyes even in the dusty, lightless room. He watched Craig move to a bed in the next room, leaving the door between them open.

'Of course dude. I got your back.'

* * *

><p><strong>Okay...Now I REALLY have to read those essays before classes begin or I will look like a complete idiot. (more so than usual...XD) If u can, please leave a review so I'll feel better! XD (insert puppy eyes here) <strong>

**HAVE A LOVELY DAY!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Sorry for not uploading on Saturday, but as some of you know the server was down and I couldn't access it but fortunately it's up and going again so here's chapter 10! XD Thank you very, very ,very much for your continued support so far and please keep it up! (you're not going to find any complains from me... XD) ENJOY! **

_**10**_

Gregory could feel his conscious thoughts trying to rouse him. He reached for them and grabbed on, letting reason drag him from under the dark of sleep. He opened his eyes gingerly, groggily, finding it hard to focus. That was unusual since he could snap into awareness in the snap of a finger usually. Why was it so difficult to make sense of his surroundings?

'You're finally awake.' Gregory's forehead creased in confusion. He lifted his head, the effort shaking him up a little, to look in the direction of the voice. The room he was in was dark with only moonlight streaming through a window to his left. The figure with him was nothing but a dark silhouette with one red eye, until his eyes adjusted a little and he realized the red eye was the burning tip of a cigarette. He still couldn't make out the man's features but he thought he recognised the voice. His brain tried frantically to wake up.

'Who are you?...' Even his voice was groggy. He tried to remember how he got himself in that situation but all he could remember was a white fog.

'You forgot me already? I'm 'urt Gregory.' Understanding struck him with the force of a freight train. He narrowed his eyes and sure enough he could see Christophe grinning at him. He tried to sit up but found his hands were cuffed and his legs were bound. The memory of following Craig and falling into the laughably simple trap like a novice returned to him and his lips widened into a slow grin of his own.

'How could I ever forget you Christophe? Though I do wish we met under different circumstances.' Christophe scoffed and got to his feet, having dragged in a second chair for himself while Gregory was still asleep.

'Zat makes two of us. You know what comes next, don't you?' The question was nothing more than a formality. Gregory's smile didn't waver as Christophe flicked the bud of his cigarette to the ground.

'You bring out some tea and crumpets while we have a lovely chat?' Christophe neared the incapacitated assassin, letting the moonlight show just how funny he found Gregory's quick wit.

'We are going to 'ave a chat but zere will be no tea or crumpets. I doubt it will be lovely. Zough zat all depends on you.' Christophe was wrapping a torn cloth, from one of his spare shirts, around his knuckles. He never used tools when he interrogated people. It wasn't that he wasn't skilled at bringing out the most unimaginable pain with them but most sang like canaries long before that was necessary. He had no problem getting messy.

'You know I won't talk.' Gregory's smile dropped so suddenly Christophe nearly wondered if it had ever been there. He saw the certainty on his old friend's face and knew Gregory was telling the truth. They'd both been caught before and were no strangers to being interrogated and neither broke down once. It was one of the main reasons why they were the best.

'And you know I 'ave no choice but make you change your mind.' Gregory inclined his head in a sad nod. He could tell Christophe didn't want to do this but he knew the other would do it anyway.

'Do your worst.' It wasn't a taunt. It was a hint. Nothing but Christophe's worst would have any effect on the blond prisoner. The mercenary struck out with lightning speed, his fist twisting in Gregory's gut. The other had been bracing himself for something similar but the blow still winded him and he heaved with the need to bend over but unable to because of his tight bonds.

'Careful what you wish for.'

* * *

><p>Stan winced when he heard the sound of Christophe's fist meet Gregory's flesh. He and Craig were in the furthest room, both silent as the grave. Christophe had been interrogating the other assassin for just over two hours and the two didn't dare leave the room. Occasionally they heard a muffled cry from Gregory but other than that he refused to answer any of the Mole's insistent questions. They could tell Christophe was getting impatient from his raised voice and heavy steps. Stan feared the mercenary would forget what the end game really was and end up killing Gregory in his passion. He paled at the thought and hoped the other had more self-restraint than that.<p>

Craig suddenly sat up and Stan looked at him. Then he realized what had changed. The other room was silent and a moment later they heard Christophe leave, banging the door shut behind him. Stan followed Craig out but they both froze when they saw Christophe. His hands were coated in blood as was his green shirt. Some crimson drops even reached his face and when he turned to glare at them, Stan nearly bolted. What he saw inside those dark eyes was sure to haunt him in later nightmares. He heard Craig swallow before moving towards Christophe. He never realized his friend was that fearless and seeing the other touch Christophe's shoulder, still alive, gave him strength to move.

'Stan. Go and clean some of his wounds. I don't want 'im bleeding to death.' Christophe didn't turn to look at him, his eyes firmly glued to Craig's and Stan was grateful for that. Without a word he picked up a bowl of clean water and the accompanying cloth, ready just for this, and left the blood stained mercenary with his friend.

He didn't give himself time to prepare for whatever awaited in the new room and as soon as he closed the door behind him he regretted it. He nearly dropped the bowl from his hands when his eyes took in the sight of Gregory. The other's head was slumped in front of him and he didn't seem to register Stan's presence yet. Bright drops of blood dripped from his chin and a cut above his left brow. His once tidy hair was a mess, stained red in places with matted blood. Worse of all was his chest and stomach. Stan winced just looking at the fresh bruises. They were already beginning to darken and he could only grimace at what they'll look like in another few hours. He wondered if Gregory had any broken bones... He had no medical knowledge and certainly didn't know how to deal with that. Carefully he stepped towards the beaten assassin.

'And who might you be?' Stan was surprised at the steadiness of Gregory's voice. When he was within reaching distance, Gregory lifted his head to look at him. Stan went on one knee silently before Gregory, not trusting himself to speak. 'You're the one who sprang the trap. I must admit, you look much more handsome without that gas mask on.' Stan's fingers squeezed rigidly the last drop of water from the cloth. He carefully pressed a corner against a bleeding cut on Gregory's lower lip. The other studied him carefully, not pulling away from the show of kindness.

'Why don't you just answer his questions?' Stan realized he'd voiced his thoughts out loud only when Gregory answered him.

'Because that would make me a pathetic assassin.' Stan felt a surge of anger course through him like molten lead. He pressed the cloth a little too harshly against the cut and Gregory winced.

'You're letting yourself be beaten to a bloody pulp because of your pride? That's the dumbest shit I've ever heard.' He didn't know why he was seething with fury all of a sudden but he couldn't hold it in check. Gregory watched him calmly and silently until Stan finished with his lip. Next the brunet moved the freshly cleaned cloth along the bridge of his nose. Christophe had made an effort to avoid his face and his nose wasn't broken but it had bead when the other back-handed him across the face.

'You've grown since we last met.' Stan's fingers froze before resuming their work, albeit with a small tremor in them. 'You didn't honestly think I'd forget you Stan, did you? Tell me, how's Wendy?' Stan gritted his teeth, reminding himself he was here to help Gregory not take over Christophe's job.

'How should I know? She went to England.' Gregory arched an interested eyebrow.

'Is that so? I take it from your unwillingness to discuss the subject that she would be available.' Stan twisted the cloth between his hands hard enough to make his knuckles go white. By the time he was done he was surprised there was any moisture in the material at all. He soaked up the blood along Gregory's cheeks.

'I told you I don't know. I haven't kept in touch.' Gregory's tongue darted out and he licked his lower lip, noting the way's Stan's eyes fell to the movement as if with a mind of their own. He kept his sly smile to himself.

'Answer me one other thing. Who figured out that you have a preference for men first between the two of you?' Stan dropped the cloth from his hand and looked into Gregory's knowing eyes like a dear staring into the barrel of a shotgun. He paled and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't get his tongue to work.

'How did you?...' Gregory rolled his eyes.

'Oh come now Stan. I realized you were gay the moment I saw you. Anyone with half a brain would have come to the same conclusion but this is South Park after all...' Stan continued to stare at him, getting paler so Gregory explained it further. 'What gave you away was how you looked at your friend, Kyle. It was quite obvious. And there was me.' Stan's startled as if Gregory had physically slapped him.

'You?...' His voice was almost a crock and Gregory grinned to himself. Getting under Stan's skin was just as easy as he remembered.

'Me. I know Stan. I always knew and I waited patiently for you to do something about it but you missed your opportunity. I never imagined I would meet you again under those sorts of circumstances. It's quite a surprise.' Stan felt like the ground was crumbling below his feet. All those years he'd thought he was good at keeping his orientation a secret and all this time he'd apparently been dead wrong. Without any warning he felt his anger return.

'Yeah well you went out with Wendy.' Stan picked up the cloth again and began cleaning the cut across Gregory's temple. His gentle touch was gone but the assassin didn't show any sign of discomfort.

'To attract your attention.' Stan paused but chose not to say anything and continued his work. 'She told me you were a terrible kisser.' Stan blinked, not even sure how they got to that subject. He stared at Gregory like he'd grown a second head.

'She lied to you.' Stan hoped she had anyway... He was held too securely under Gregory's thumb to realize the other was just riling him up.

'She seemed fairly convinced and I can spot a liar. Wendy was not lying about this.' Stan's expression darkened. He wanted to show Gregory just how wrong he was. No! What the hell was he thinking?! This was a dangerous assassin, bent on killing his friend and he was thinking of kissing him?! 'There's only one way to prove me wrong...'Gregory's voice dropped to a sultry whisper, the words entering Stan's ear with tempting smoothness. He unintentionally glanced at Gregory's lips and saw the pink tongue move slowly against the lower one.

'You're crazy.' Stan knew he was in danger, he could feel heat ignite in his gut. His head was spinning with the possibility. Was it really so wrong to indulge? He felt like he was under a spell.

'No I'm not. How many dreams have you had about me so far? This is your chance to act out your fantasies...' Stan didn't realize he was leaning in, drawn in by Gregory's enticing whisper. He didn't even argue the existence of said dreams. What was the point when they both knew the truth?

Stan didn't realize he'd moved until he felt the warmth of Gregory's lips against his. He suffered a moment of panic at the realization but Gregory's tongue ran along his lips smoothly, encouragingly. Stan lost himself to the kiss, letting his mouth dance its dance. He tasted some of Gregory's blood, the cut still bleeding sporadically but instead of revolting him, it turned him on. He let Gregory's tongue guide his inside his mouth and felt the two verbal muscles intertwine before he drew his tongue back, letting Gregory follow instead. He was not about to so willingly dance to the other's tune. He felt the Brit's lips stretch in a playful smirk but gave into Stan's demand and pushed his own tongue past the slack resistance of the student's teeth. Stan wasn't sure how long the kiss went on for but he knew he had to breathe or risk suffocating.

When someone cleared their throat loudly behind him, Stan literally jumped back from Gregory. He pivoted on the heels of his feet to face an amused Mole with his fists resting on his hips. In an instant Stan felt his skin catch fire and he was sure his blush matched the puffball on top of the hat he'd worn back when he was in 4th grade. With more speed than he'd thought possible, he bent to retrieve the discarded wash cloth and the bowl of reddened water.

'I'm sorry to interrupt but I zought you might be 'ungry. I sent Craig to order some pizza.' Stan muttered something under his breath which Christophe took as some sort of apology and ran out of the room. The mercenary looked at him leave and chuckled to himself, just loud enough for Gregory to hear too. Finally, he closed the door.

'And things were just getting good... You really have bad timing Christophe.' The Frenchman shrugged, lighting a cigarette. Gregory noticed his face was cleaned of blood, his blood, and the bandages around his knuckles were fresh.

'I 'ave perfect timing.' Gregory narrowed his eyes at the other assassin.

'You know?' Christophe nodded, his expression sobering. 'Did you tell him?'

'Non. It's not my place and I know zat. You can tell him yourself.' Gregory regarded his captor coolly, the dangerous look which sent people running for their lives sparking in his glacial cold eyes.

'You brought him here so you can use him as a bargaining chip? That's low even for you Mole.' Gregory only called Christophe by his title when he was really angry with him.

'You are mistaking. I didn't even want him 'ere. He volunteered to keep his friend alive. Zat's called loyalty. You might remember what it feels like.' Gregory scoffed, the action sending a jolt of pain through his cracked and bruised flesh.

'Says the man betraying the trust of his employers.' Christophe took a good long drag of his cigarette before moving to sit in his chair, directly in front of Gregory.

'I was never loyal to zem. I worked for zem. I was loyal to you and if our positions were reversed I would remember zat.' Some of the iciness in Gregory's glare thawed and he sighed a tired sigh.

'You would be exactly in my position because you are too stubborn to give up. You wouldn't keep your mouth shut because of loyalty but you would because of your pride.'

'Perhaps you are right. I am stubborn.' Gregory's lips twitched with the beginning of a small smile.

'But you are right. We once fought for the same side so I will do you a favour. I will answer one of your questions.' Christophe didn't miss a beat before he asked his question.

'Why are they after Craig?' Gregory's confusion was plain to see.

'That's what you want to know?...' Christopher nodded sternly and Gregory wondered what sort of mythical creature this Craig was to wrap the stubborn Mole around his fingers so quickly.

'A deal's a deal. Do you know who's the ring leader among the board? The real power, not the old men who are little more than decoys?' Christophe wished Gregory would just tell him, not make him work for the answer but he knew once the Brit had a bone he was reluctant to give it up.

'That old geezer, the one who was once 'ead of 'Omeland Security.' Christophe never bothered remembering any of their names.

'That's the one. His name is Richard Mann. As you so astutely pointed out, he once was the head of Homeland Security but I bet you don't know why he's no longer that, do you?' Christophe shook his head impatiently. 'It took me quite a lot of digging to figure it out myself. There's more to that man that meets the eye. He's a Guinea Pirate and Craig is the only one who can stop him from conquering the world.' Christopher stared at the other assassin incredulously. So many questions rushed to his mind that it dizzied him.

'I always knew you were good at inventing stories but zis is far-fetched even for you.' Christophe was in no mood to be toyed with and he got to his feet in a very threatening manner.

'Ask Craig then. When he was eight Richard Mann, our employer, tried to have him killed. Ask Craig about his time in Peru.' Christopher paused at the naked certainty in the other's iron gaze. He knew Gregory valued few things above his pride and once he made a deal even Satan himself couldn't stop him from bringing it to an end. It was the main reason why he feared the other wouldn't abandon his mission and join with them. And if Gregory didn't do that then Christophe knew it was only a matter of time before they were all killed. They're lives rested in Gregory's hands and Christophe could only hope the other wasn't aware of it.

'Zat doesn't add up. Why would he wait until now to 'ave Craig killed?'

'That I don't know but I do know why he sent you to kill him.' Christopher gritted his teeth at Gregory's playful grin. Oh he was so loving his damn bone.

'Why?' Gregory frowned in mock confusion.

'I believe this is a second question.' Christopher took a threatening step towards Gregory but the other wasn't cowed. 'But I can make an exception if you untie my legs. The rope is cutting off my circulation. You know I'm too weakened to break free from the handcuffs, even if you hadn't searched me so thoroughly.' Christophe weighted his options. On one hand he knew giving into Gregory's demand was asking for trouble but on the other he was confident the handcuffs were enough.

'Fine. I remove the rope once you tell me why zey sent me on zis mission.' Gregory's grin widened.

'Because they wanted you to fail so they could have a reason to eliminate you.' Christophe physically recoiled from the words.

'What?'

'You've been thinking of leaving the company for a while and they know it. They're not as dumb as you might think Christophe but they didn't dare provoke you without a reason. If they tried to get rid of you on the sly, some of the other assassins would have backed you up, myself included but if you failed a mission it becomes protocol. They know you don't like killing people for the fun of it which was why they hid the true reason behind Craig being a target. You must have noticed they've been pushing your buttons for a while now. This was just the straw which broke the camel's back.' Christophe couldn't argue with any of that and suddenly everything made sense. He wanted to smack his head against a wall for being so blind. In the end it didn't really matter since he was going to desert them anyway but he hated being a pawn in someone else's game.

They were going to pay for that, he swore it on his shovel.

* * *

><p><strong>Oh Gregory, you charmer you! XD Thanks for the read! I hope it was an enjoyable one and please let me know you thoughts through a much appreciated review! Thank You in advance! XD<strong>

**HAVE A LOVELY DAY! **


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello dearies! As always, let me kick this off by giving those of you who read and reviewed the story so far a very warm THANK YOU! I appreciate them all a lot and i love you kind people for the time you took to make my day brighter. There's only 4 chapters left (not including this one) so hopefully i've hooked you enough so i can't disappoint you anymore. (hopefully...) XD ENJOY! **

_**11**_

It was a split second but Gregory saw it. An almost invisible glint of metal on the otherwise cleared floor. The moon shone at just the right angle for his hawkish gaze to catch the tiny reflection before clouds got in the way and the tiny thing was out of Gregory's sight once more. The cogs in his mind were already spinning, thinking of a way to get his hands on the rusty nail. He was alone for the moment but he knew Christophe would be back soon and he had to have a plan ready by then. He'd already convinced the mercenary to untie the ropes. All he had to worry about now were the handcuffs and if he could just get his deft fingers on the nail then he would be free. A nail wasn't the best tool to unlock cuffs but in Gregory's hands it was more than enough.

The key to his escape was so close he could touch it if only he managed to topple his chair over but if he did that the noise would attract Christophe and he needed a little time to work the cuffs. The solution came to him like a bolt of ingenious lighting from on high and he grinned a Cheshire Cat grin. If he taunted Christophe enough to make the mercenary do the work for him then he could get his fingers on the nail and work without arousing suspicion. He knew he could get under Christophe's skin, it was one of his favourite past-times. He had to be careful though. The other had to strike him at the right angle or his chair would topple in the wrong direction. With his hands cuffed so tightly behind him an inch was the difference between freedom or failing his mission. He also knew he wouldn't get a second chance. It was already Monday. By midnight, if he didn't report his success, he would be considered a failure just like the Mole.

His head turned casually to the door when it began opening, making it seem like he was bored in his confinement. A moment later Christophe walked in, wearing the same dirty clothes as the other day. He figured the mercenary had a change but was unwilling to get them ruined with blood as well. He smiled his greeting to the other as if genuinely pleased to see him and a scowl was his reply.

'Such bad manners... You could at least wish me a good morning.' Christophe sighed, massaging a growing headache against his temple. He was unable to sleep again and he was quickly exhausting his last reserves of patience. He cared for Gregory but if the Brit wasn't going to join them soon he feared he would have no choice but kill him. They couldn't wait there forever. He didn't know how long Gregory had to complete his mission but he instinctively knew his time was running out, fast.

'I doubt zis is a good morning for you.' Gregory had to agree with that. He was aching all over from being stuck in that chair with his cuts and bruises. He occasionally flexed his fingers just to feel a multitude of invisible needles prick his skin.

'You look to be in a similar predicament. Was your bed too soft?' Christophe grunted and lit his cigarette. Gregory knew he had until Christophe was done smoking before the interrogation began again. He had to get under the mercenary's skin until then. Easy.

'Give the act a rest Gregory. I know you're in pain. You can still end it, you know. Just quit your mission.' Christophe had a hint of beseechment in his voice which was as close as he would ever come to begging. Gregory knew he was being honoured by it and smiled to himself.

'If I do that you and I both know what would happen. I would be filed under compromised and my name will end up on a dozen assassins' hit lists. I would be in the same boat as you which I'm assuming is exactly what you want.'

'You are ze smart one. You should know zat if we join our forces zey would 'ave to back down for a while. We can zake zem down if we fight together.' Christophe already made up his mind to take them down, even if it cost him is life, but he did prefer living if he could. He also didn't want to drag Craig and Stan down with him. If Gregory joined them then they would at least have a fighting chance. Better, they would have a winning chance.

'You might be right but I have no reason to join you. Unlike you, I don't have a pretty student to share my bed with. I must ask, is he better than me in bed?' Christophe nearly swallowed his cigarette and glared at Gregory.

'You will leave 'im out of zis.' He wasn't in the mood to deal with Gregory's taunts, especially if he brought Craig into the discussion.

'Oh? Did I touch a sore spot? By the way, I'm taking your refusal to answer my previous questions as a negative. But don't hold it against him. You said it yourself, I was one of the best lays you ever had.' Christophe's fists balled by his side and Gregory could see the fingers flex and relax. He could imagine Christophe picturing himself strangling the life out of him.

'Enough! Zat is not what we are 'ere to discuss. And you weren't the best I ever 'ad. You were quite lousy actually.' Gregory let loose a string of hearty laughs, each sound reverberating through his bones and making it difficult for him to keep from showing just how much it hurt.

'That's not how I remember it. I seem to recall you screaming my name loud enough to get us kicked out of a hotel once. Does he know about you weak spot, he one on his left shoulder blade?' Christophe's eyes resembled an inferno and Gregory knew he was pushing all the right buttons. Normally the mercenary had more self-restraint but with the lack of sleep his defences were already lowered.

'I said that was enough. I'm warning you Gregory.' The blond knew this wasn't an empty threat. He noticed the cigarette was almost burned to the filter. He smirked as Christophe began pacing in front of him. He waited until the Mole was on the best spot before he delivered his coup de grace. As soon as he began talking Christophe halted his steps, fixing Gregory with a threatening glare.

'How did you get him in bed anyway? Did you simply take him or did he offer? He looks kind of slutty if you ask me. Or did you take advantage of the fact that you know all the intimate details about his likes and dislikes to woo him?' Christophe's eyes narrowed in a final silent warning. 'Oh you did! You made him fall in love with you while knowing you were there to kill him? Wow... That's cold-' Gregory was cut off mid-sentence. Christophe's fist smacked his jaw hard enough to send him, along with the chair, clattering to the floor. Gregory groaned at the impact, dizzy from the blows to his unprotected head. He had enough reason to reach for the nail however and he would have smiled if his face didn't feel so numb.

'I warned you to stop! Zat smart mouth of yours is going to get you killed!' Gregory chuckled, or tried to through the pain igniting along his jaw. He hoped it wasn't broken... He felt the end of the nail slide inside the keyhole of the cuffs and he carefully began twisting it around. He had to move as little as possible or Christophe would notice though the other was angry enough to see little other than red. The merchant growled in frustration and turned his back to Gregory in an attempt to recollect himself. He couldn't start beating up the Brit while in that state or he would end up killing him. Unfortunately he never had a chance to turn back around. Gregory was on his feet with inhumane grace, so silent even a trained assassin like Christophe missed hearing him while standing a foot away. By the time the Frenchman realized something was wrong, Gregory was already swinging the chair at him and he had a second to curse before the wood struck his head and knocked him unconscious.

Christophe fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes, a thin river of blood running down the side of his face. Gregory bent down and checked the injury, making sure Christophe was in no mortal dancer, before searching the mercenary for a weapon. He grinned when he found the Mole's gun and took it into his own hand. He checked the ammunition, happy to note it was fully loaded before getting to his feet. His legs shook slight under his weight from hours of disuse but he forced them to obey. He doubted Christophe would be out for long but all he needed was a second. Enough time to pull the trigger...

When he entered the room where he'd fallen into the Mole's trap, he found it empty. The door leading to the other room was closed, guessing correctly that the two students found no joy in hearing Christophe's interrogations, he crossed the distance of the room and pressed his ear to the door. Not hearing anything, he pushed it open. With the exception of a bed there, the room was empty but he saw another door leading to another room. Craig had to be there and after pressing his ear to the door he heard the two speaking in hushed voices. He yanked the door open, his gun raised, the aim directed at his target's heart before either Stan or Craig had time to gasp.

'Hello again. I'm afraid we were interrupted last time but now I'm here to finish the mission.' Gregory noticed the small tremors running along Craig's jaw but his eyes seemed unnaturally calm. It gave him pause and before he had time to pull the trigger Stan moved to stand between the gun and his friend paralysed on the bed behind him. Gregory narrowed his eyes at Stan, his gun remaining fixed on Craig's heart. From such a short distance a bullet would go through Stan and hit Craig too. He could quite literally kill two birds with one stone... But he had no intention of doing that.

'Move Stan. You don't have to die today.' He saw a determination in the other's eyes which was hard to come by. He had to admit, he was a little impressed at the man's backbone. Many a men, bigger and stronger, broke down in tears when faced with a gun.

'No. I won't let you kill him.' Gregory tried not to let it show how surprised he was by the steel in Stan's voice.

'You are willing to die for him? Why?' Gregory was genuinely curious what would push someone to throw their lives away so readily.

'He's my friend. If you had any you would know what I'm talking about.' Gregory cocked his head to the side, remembering Christophe's words on the subject of loyalty.

'This is your last chance to move Stan or you die with him.' Gregory's eyes looked merciless, the eyes of someone who was responsible for countless deaths. Stan didn't even flinch.

'Then kill me. One way or another I'm dead. If you shoot him and I survive I'm coming after you and I doubt you're the sort of guy to let himself be killed so you'll just have to kill me too.' Gregory regarded Stan coolly.

'So be it then.' Stan inhaled a sharp breath, waiting for the pain to tear into his flesh but nothing happened. He blinked repeatedly when Gregory lowered his weapon instead and shrugged, an easy smile on his lips. 'I guess I can't finish this mission either.' Stan's legs nearly buckled under him, so great was his relief.

'You're really not going to kill us?... Craig?' Gregory glanced at the other man who was watching him with that unnerving calm gaze. It was almost like Craig knew all along what he was going to do... But that was ridiculous.

'I was going to but you've convinced me against it. In all honesty I've been inclined to take Christophe on his offer of breaking free from the company for a while now but it was your loyalty to your friend which finally convinced me. You are a lucky man Craig to have such friends.' Stan opened his mouth but no words came out. Craig spoke instead, rising slowly to his feet behind Stan.

'Where's Christophe?' His voice was dry, devoid of any emotion. In that second Gregory saw a flash of something murderous in the calm gaze. He was beginning to realize, like Christophe had before him, that there was much more to Craig than a yellow folder could say.

'He's-'

'Gregory!' The blond stepped out of the way just in time to avoid a swing of the Mole's shovel. Had he not called out before he struck, Gregory realized he would have been decapitated. He turned and jumped back gracefully so Christophe could see that both Stan and Craig were still alive. The mercenary eyed the gun in his hand and Gregory brought his hands up in a sign of surrender.

'I'm not going to shoot anyone. If I place this down will you promise not to lop off my head?' Christophe said nothing but Gregory had to hope that was a yes. He slowly lowered the gun to the floor, his eyes fixed on Christophe's furious ones all the while, and shoved it towards the mercenary with a foot. Only when the weapon stopped at his feet did Christophe relax a little.

'So what does zis mean? Are you zrough with ze company?' Gregory lowered his arms, feeling every muscle in his body cry in agony at the slightest move.

'Yep. I decided to take your advice on loyalty.' Christophe grunted, not quite able to completely hide his pleased smile. Craig moved past Gregory to Christophe, his fingers gently touching the ugly cut across his temple.

'You're bleeding.' Gregory noted the way Christophe's eyes softened when they looked at Craig. He'd never seen the mercenary look at someone like that before... No wonder he was willing to risk everything to protect this man.

'It's nothing. Gregory hits like a girl. He is British after all.' The blond huffed and rolled his eyes, not really taking the insult to heart.

'Just so we're clear, I didn't hit you myself. I hit you with a chair and it knocked you out.' Craig's eyes widened at Gregory's words.

'You hit him with a chair?' Christophe gritted his teeth.

'About zat. How did you manage to get out of the cuffs?' Gregory had that smile like when someone threw him a bone. Christophe regretted asking.

'If you go back and look at the cuffs, you'll figure it out yourself.' Typical Gregory. He couldn't just answer the question, he had to make Christophe sweat for it. Silence descended on the room for a little while. In the end it was Christophe who broke it.

'It's good to 'ave you on our side Gregory.' The blond grinned, wishing the initiation hadn't been quite so brutal but keeping that to himself.

'It's good to be here, hopefully for more than today.' Christophe arched an eyebrow and Gregory realised the other didn't know about the deadline of his mission. His mirth evaporated in an instant.

'Quick! What time is it?' Craig pulled out his phone without a moment's hesitation.

'It's three PM.' The blond released a relieved breath. He'd lost track of time while in the other room. The window was grimy enough that it always looked like dawn. He was amazed light travelled through at all.

'Good. There's plenty of time left. Christophe, the deadline for my mission is today at midnight.' Christophe figured as much and accepted the confirmation with a grim nod of his head.

'What happens after midnight?...' Craig's voice was barely a whisper. He knew it was stupid but he'd sort of clung to the hope that once Gregory was no longer their enemy then things would go back to normal. The realization that normal was no longer an option for him shook him to his very core, though he tried to hide it. He felt Christophe's fingers intertwine with his in a reassuring manner. He was immensely grateful for the contact.

'They will send a wave of lesser assassins. They know we're the strongest they have and they know nobody else can face us on their own so they will try to mow us down with superior numbers.' Gregory spoke in a monotonous voice almost like he was talking about how to cook spaghetti.

'Gregory is right. But you and Stan won't be 'ere when zat 'appens.' Craig twisted his head to look at Christophe. The question was evident. 'You will get on a train to Denver where you will wait for us. If you stay 'ere, you will both die. We can't keep you both safe and keep ourselves alive.'

'He's right. This is the only way.' Craig looked like he was ready to argue the point further but Stan spoke instead. He'd been so quiet all three jumped at his voice. Gregory turned and realized the man was looking at him with such a piercing gaze he seemed to read his very soul.

'That sounds good. Wouldn't want to get in your way.' Craig and Christophe stepped aside when Stan moved past them, not even the Mole willing to question the seething rage in the student's voice. With a resigned sigh, Gregory followed, moving past the shrugging mercenary. They heard the front door open and close as Stan left the apartment and a moment later Gregory followed. Craig glanced from the door to Christophe, who shrugged again.

'Do you think we should go after them?' Christophe closed the distance between them again, resting his hands on Craig's hips.

'Gregory will take care of it.'

* * *

><p><strong>And then there were four! Things can only get crazier from here, right? XD Thank you very much for the read and let me know if you liked the update or not. Thanks in advance! <strong>

**HAVE A LOVELY DAY! **


	12. Chapter 12

**Warning: MATURE SEXUAL CONTENTS! (Stan/Gregory! I wanted to give them at least one explicit chapter...) **

**Again, numerous warm THANKS to all who read and reviewed the previous chapter! I'm glad you guys stumbled upon this story! (Lucky me) XD I hope you'll like chapter 12 too. ENJOY! **

_**12**_

'Stan, wait!' Gregory hurried to catch up with the other.

'This is all fucked up. This was supposed to be a boring year! Fuck!' Gregory reached for Stan's shoulder but the other angrily shook himself free.

'It's alright to be scared, under the circumstances.' Stan turned on Gregory so fast the other nearly crashed head first into him. He unconsciously took a step back at the naked anger in Stan's glare.

'Scared? I just had a fucking gun pointed at me! I'm pissed off!' Gregory didn't know what to say to that... He knew Stan, like most children unfortunate enough to be born in South Park, had a rather unconventional upbringing. He knew for a fact Stan had guns pointed at him before, even at the tender age of eight. It was a miracle the guy turned out as sane as he did...

'Why are you so angry?' Stan took a step towards Gregory and the other backed away again, realizing he was trapping himself with the wall at his back. Perhaps it wasn't Christophe he should have been worried about all that time. Stan looked about ready to kill him and the rest of the town while he was at it. He felt a stray shiver run unbidden down his spine at the obvious bloodlust. He wasn't sure whether it was a result of the cold or something else...

'I promised myself I was going to have a normal life. No drama, no fuss, certainly no assassins and no fucking guns. Then your friend has to show up and ruin everything. And then you show up and now I'm a target, just like Craig.' Stan's voice was a low growl but Gregory had no problem hearing the words.

'You didn't have to help your friend. You willingly walked into this-' Stan had him by the collar of his tattered shirt and up against the wall in a flash. Gregory felt the breath get knocked out of his lungs at the impact.

'What was I supposed to do? Let Craig die? That wasn't an option!' Gregory could feel Stan's hot breath across his skin and that shiver ran through him again. This time he was certain the cold had nothing to do with it.

'If you want to be angry at anyone, be angry at the men who send us to kill your friend. Like it or not, we are all in this together now and if you wish to go on your own you will get killed. No, they won't actually kill you. They'll capture you alive and torture you, like Christophe did to me, until you tell them exactly where we are and everything you know. You'll tell them what you don't know just so they'll stop and then beg for death. Your only chance of returning to your normal life is for us to take down the company which has you, me, Christophe and your friend on a death list.' Stan's fingers tightened around the material hard enough for Gregory to hear it rip.

'I'm not an idiot.' Stan was barely able to get the words out, his teeth were gritted so hard. 'I know I have no choice in this. I don't need you to tell me what to do.' Gregory noticed the spark in the already smouldering eyes when he was brought into the question.

'Are you sure this is just about having a gun pointed at you?' The way Gregory spoke the question it was clear he knew something more and Stan's nostrils flared in annoyance.

'You're so damn certain you know everything.' Gregory moved his hand so his fingers wound around Stan's clenched fists. He didn't try to pry the hold away, just established some skin contact.

'Then teach me something new...' Stan had his lips pressed to Gregory's as soon as the last word was out. There was nothing gentle about the act and their tongues immediately launched into a battle. Stan gave himself over to his raging desires because Gregory was right. This was more than having his life turned upside down. This was more than seeing his pathetic little life flash before his eyes. This was unresolved business between him and Gregory. He was careful to avoid putting too much pressure on the healing cut on the assassin's bottom lip but other than that, he was vicious. He was ravenous and finally he had his sustenance in his hands.

With a quick motion he removed what was left of Gregory's shirt, nearly ripping it in two in his haste. Gregory refused to let go of his lips, his hands pulling Stan's mouth closer by pressing on the back of his head. Stan pressed himself against the blond, feeling the length of his body against him and swallowed Gregory's groan. It took him a moment to understand that noise was less pleasure and more pain. He recoiled back when he remembered the bruises and the cuts all over the other's flesh. He took a hasty step away and Gregory followed him with burning eyes.

'We can't do this. You're hurt.' Stan tried to steady his focus by breathing in the dusty air but he was yearning for the other man too much. Gregory said nothing but reached for Stan's hand and pulled him back to the room, his grip vice like. The brunet instinctively knew to keep his mouth shut as he was all but manhandled back in the makeshift bedroom.

'You have no idea what being hurt really is. This is nothing, a mild discomfort. Don't you dare wuss out now.' Gregory's voice could have frozen the oceans over. Stan felt his mouth go dry and his guts clench meaningfully. He desired Gregory, there was no denying that but was this really okay?

'But-' Gregory was having none of that. With a sudden whirl of his upper body, Gregory threw Stan on the bed effortlessly and climbed on top of him. Their eyes met for a split second but in that second Stan finally understood this was going to happen. His weak protests did nothing but postpone the inevitable. Gregory was giving him permission, more like ordering him, to continue and only a mad man ignored the warning in the frozen depths of those blue eyes. He craned his neck up so their lips could connect once more and Stan felt Gregory push him down. He felt the other's tongue take charge and his hands hold him pinned to the bed.

He had every intention of letting Gregory know who was really in charge but for the moment he was content to let the assassin do as he pleased. Gregory's lips moved along his jaw while his quick fingers got rid of Stan's coat and moved under the material of his long sleeved t-shirt. Stan moved his curious fingers up and down the other's curved back as Gregory trailed kissed all the way to his chest, his tongue flicking out to tease an erect nipple. Stan's hand was tangled in the messy blond hair since Gregory descended even lower and he tightened his grip when he felt the other's fingers work on the opening of his jeans. His eyes were firmly fixed on the ceiling above because if he so much as caught a glimpse of Gregory so close to his need he was sure to climax right then and there.

He sucked in a cooling breath, which did nothing against his searing blood, and shut his eyes when his cock was freed from its confinements. He let go of Gregory's hair, not wishing to hinder the other's actions in any way, and fisted the bed sheets instead. The material bunched under his fingertips and Stan was grateful for their physical anchor to sanity. He briefly wondered where Christophe and Craig were. He would have seen them if they left the room since there was only one hallway leading to the stairs... The thought of them being in the other bedroom, hearing every tiny noise they made through the thin walls, went right out of his mind when Gregory flicked his tongue out and licked languidly along the length of his member. Stan wanted nothing more than to buck his hips and enclose his length inside the slippery heat of Gregory's mouth but he knew the other wouldn't appreciate his lack of self-control... Gregory had a mind to tease and if Stan wanted his reward he had to bear it... screwing his eyes shut he braced himself for a torturous ride.

Gregory smiled to himself, watching the other's expression tighten with resignation. He knew Stan was nearly bursting with want for him and he'd greatly underestimated his will power. He wondered how far he could push the brunet before Stan would finally snap and give into his feral cravings. He kissed a line from Stan's bellybutton down, carefully avoiding even the tiniest bit of friction to the one part of Stan which practically begged for it. Gregory eyed the way Stan's fingers went rigid. Ever so slowly he rounded the head of Stan's cock with his tongue, smoothly sliding it in the slit at the centre. Stan's guttural groan was a delight though he did almost feel sorry for him... almost. Maybe he was being too mean...

Deciding to cut Stan some slack since he did point a gun at him earlier, he slid his lips lower down the length, feeling the shudders running all through the other man's relieved body. Stan tried to hold it in but the low moan escaped anyway when Gregory managed to swallow his whole member. From the way the blond moved his tongue along the underside of his cock and bobbed his head so effortlessly, Stan knew this was far from his fist time. He could already tell this was going to be the best head he'd ever gotten and when Gregory began moving in earnest he knew he was right. His back arched, his hips eager to buck into the skilful mouth, but Gregory's strong hands kept him grounded. He'd never been a loud lover but no matter what he did he couldn't keep the noises of pleasure from streaming out of him like a torrent. He tried twisting his head so he could bury it in the pillow but it simply muffled the words, though that was better than nothing.

Stan could feel the familiar sensation of everything tightening inside him. He was so damn close he could almost feel the overwhelming pleasure of his long awaited release. He braced himself for the climax... which never came. When he peeled his face from the pillow he was looking right into Gregory's twinkling eyes. He could see his own dishevelled, wide-eyed expression in the reflection of the dark mirrors.

'I was under the impression _you _were supposed to teach _me_ something new, not the other way around.' Stan was dumbfounded, his brain still wondering why he wasn't swimming in a haze of pleasure that very moment. He saw Gregory's eyebrow rise playfully as if in slow motion and it lit something inside him. Something wild reared its head as if its slumber had suddenly been interrupted and before Stan knew what was happening, he had Gregory pressed into the mattress below him. He couldn't recall ever moving that fast or with such force but their positions were reversed, that was undeniable. He could tell Gregory was as surprised as him and he leaned down, keeping a firm hold of Gregory's shoulders, until his lips were brushing against the assassin's ear. Gregory was on his knees, his ass slightly elevated in the air and Stan couldn't resist thrusting his hips forwards with some teasing of his own in mind. He was close enough to the other to hear his muffled moan and he grinned triumphantly.

'You're right. Though from the way you were sucking my cock I doubt I can teach a slut like you anything new. Still, I'll try my best.' He snapped his hips forwards again and Gregory nearly choked on his witty retort. 'Now, do I have to tie you to the bed or will you behave?' Gregory shook with a quiet chuckle, unable to ignore that delectable mental image. He glanced at Stan, turning his head as best he could so when he spoke their lips brushed against each other.

'No... I'll be good.' Stan meshed their lips together, sealing the agreement, and eased up on the pressure. Reluctantly, he moved away, leaving kisses along the nape of Gregory's neck and down his spine, his tongue tracing some of the numerous scars which crossed its path. Gregory's back was thankfully mostly absent of bruises but it was full of scars and Stan could only wonder under what circumstances he got them. Some looked to be shallow cuts but other he recognised as bullet holes and a few long slashes across his shoulder blades looked like whip lashes. He remembered what Gregory had said about 'real pain' and he couldn't completely supress a shudder. Deciding to question the other about them at a later date, Stan sat back to look at the assassin waiting pliantly for his touch.

He couldn't recall the hundreds of times he'd imagined a similar scenario but it had never seemed like anything more than a farfetched dream. In a way it still seemed to be that. Well, if it was nothing but a dream then he better not wake up before he heard Gregory scream his name, while drowning in pleasure. Practicing some reasonable thinking, Stan pulled the other's trousers down without forcing them. Gregory already lost his shirt and Stan didn't want to leave him complete naked... Though the idea did play on his mind for a moment. The material of the black cloth felt expensive and knowing Gregory it probably cost more than he made in a year working at the pet store. He was glad when he was done with removing them and Gregory's boxer briefs. Without the worry of destroying them he could finally let go of the last of his inhibitions and the sharp sound of a slap echoed around the room. Gregory yelped in surprise rather than pain when he felt the other's hand strike his rear and smirked to himself a moment later.

'I don't suppose you have lube on you, by any chance?...' Stan eyed Gregory's ass like it was a juicy piece of meat.

'No but I don't suppose that will be enough to stop you.' Gregory grinned at him from over his shoulder, raising himself on the support of his arms so he could see Stan better.

'You're right, again.' Stan let his fingers sink into the reddened flesh where he'd slapped Gregory. From the wanton look clouding the assassin's eyes, he deduced pain was not a turn off for the Brit. Stan's eyes flashed dangerously at the new piece of information. While keeping that hand on Gregory's ass, the hold not easing up, he brought the other to the killer's mouth. 'You know what to do.' Gregory arched an eyebrow but didn't argue. He let Stan slide a finger inside his mouth, accepting the digit and twisting his tongue around it. Stan watched the show, lust drowning out everything else. He remembered how good that tongue and those lips felt on his cock and it jumped in approval at the memory. Gregory easily accommodated a second and then a third finger in his mouth, coating them as best he could.

With a low growl Stan pulled his hand away, unable to bear the sight a second longer without snapping. Gregory knowingly lifted his ass higher, parting his knees a little, invitingly. Stan ran one of the sleeked fingers around Gregory's entrance and just when he heard the other inhale he pushed it in, grinning at the loud gasp. Stan allowed the other a moment to adjust to having a finger knuckle deep inside him but as soon as he thought Gregory was beginning to grow impatient he began pushing the digit in and out. Gregory hummed approvingly, soon demanding harsher treatment and Stan didn't hold back. When his three fingers weren't enough to satisfy the British agent Stan nearly sighed with relief. It was finally time for the good part!

Gregory felt his arms crumble below him and he buried his face back in the pillow when Stan began pushing his cock inside his stretched entrance. The breath was knocked out of his lungs as his eager body accepted more and more of the organ. He murmured a gratifying profanity when he felt the whole length slide home, the tip easily hitting the magic bundle of nerves. He hoped Stan would give him a moment to catch his breath but the other began thrusting in and out at a punishing pace before Gregory had time to take one breath. Every time he felt oxygen enter his lungs it was forcefully pushed out along with a moan or a curse by Stan's feral thrusts. He'd hoped Stan would be wild in bed but this was far beyond his highest expectations. Gregory hadn't been fucked this thoroughly since he and Christophe were at it.

Stan couldn't hold back even if he tried, which he did not. Gregory was the object of his longest desire and he couldn't slow down. He couldn't hear enough of the other's implorations for more. When Gregory managed to yell his name he felt like someone reached inside his chest and physically grabbed a hold of his heart, squeezing it tight. His hands held the other's hips, occasionally delivering a slap to the expectant rump. Stan could feel his climax approaching for a second time and this time nobody was going to get in the way of his completion. He didn't care if Jesus himself walked through that door, he was not going to stop! He somehow managed to pull his member free from the consuming heat that was Gregory and come on the assassin's trembling back. He knew he moaned Gregory's name and he shook with the force of the rapture. It took all his strength just to stop himself from crashing on top of the other body, boneless all of a sudden.

Gregory was panting, gasping for breath in large heaves. Stan could tell from the sated expression the other already climaxed as well and he was grateful for small favours. He was too drained to think strait, forget about bringing another man to the brink of oblivion. He rolled on his back, his chest rising and falling in a desperate attempt to regain his composure. The bed was small so Gregory only had to twist a little for his head to rest on Stan's shoulder. He felt the blond leave a kiss on the flesh and he turned so their lips could connect in a lazy, content kiss.

It spoke of things words couldn't...

* * *

><p>'Wow...' Craig blinked, his face buried against Christophe's chest. He felt the other's rumbling chuckle reverberate through his frame.<p>

'Zat is Gregory alright. He can make any man scream.' Craig lifted his head a little so he could give the mercenary a probing look. The Mole was just starting another cigarette. He'd had time to go through quite a number while they were forced to listen to Stan and Gregory fuck like wild rabbits. In a way he had to thank them... Their sensuous moans and yells send his Craig in quite frenzy and they had a good time of their own, though they'd finished early. Perfect timing so they could hear Stan yell Gregory's name while in the throes of passion. Christophe remembered when he used to call Gregory's name like that and smirked to himself.

'And how would you know that?' Craig's voice didn't sound accusing, simply curious. Christophe shrugged casually.

'Gregory and I used to 'ave sex occasionally. It was never serious.' Craig laid his head back down across his scarred chest.

'Should I be worried?' Even if he couldn't see it, Christophe could picture the small smile on the usually stoic pair of lips.

'Should I be worried about you and Stan?'

'Fair point.' After the obscene amount of noise coming from their room and the other room, the new mantle of quiet seemed awkward and stifling. Though Craig figured it was only he who thought of that since the rest seemed content with it... 'I didn't expect them to take such a liking to each other so quickly though...' The way Craig remembered it, Stan hated Gregory when they were young and they barely met as adults... He felt like there was more to the story.

'Gregory and Stan?' Christophe scoffed. 'Zat British beech 'as been obsessed with your friend since zey first met. It's a miracle he lasted until now. Zen again, Gregory always zinks he knows better but he usually needs a push to get zings done.' Christophe enjoyed the bitterness of tobacco on his tongue while Craig tried to wrap his head around what he'd just said. He wasn't surprised by the student's next question, when Craig finally managed to speak it.

'Hold on! What do you mean obsessed? You can't just tell me something like that and then shut up...' Christophe gave the curious man a look which said that was exactly what he could do but after taking another smoky breath he changed his mind.

'Gregory 'ad been keeping an eye on Stan as he grew up. That guy 'as no idea 'ow many lives he owns to Gregory. Do you remember when Stan was in an accident? When he was eighteen and decided to take his dad's car for a joyride?' Christophe shook his head at the stupidity of such an action. Fortunately, the man seemed to have wised up a little...

'Yeah... He skidded off the road and drove down a slope. I only heard about it once he was already in the hospital. The doctors said they found him in front of the hospital and Stan can't remember anything so nobody knew how he got there...' Craig's eyes widened as understanding dawned on him. He looked at the wall to the other room, as if able to gawk at Gregory with his non-existent x-ray vision, before he turned back to a nodding Christophe.

'Zat's right. Gregory got him just in time to save his life. I was zere too but I didn't know about Stan until after. Gregory didn't want me or anyone else in our profession to know about 'im. It was the reason why he'd kept his distance until now. He didn't want to endanger Stan's life but now, since zat is no longer an option...' Christophe trailed off, finishing his cigarette instead. Craig felt his head spin. He slowly pressed his ear to the broad chest below him, feeling Christophe's arm embrace his waist.

'Wow...'

* * *

><p><strong>Wow indeed... There's more to that Gregory than meets the eye, ey? XD I'm curious to see if you guys liked this chapter so please let me know through a review. Constructive criticism is always welcomed too! (the key word there being CONSTRUCTIVE!) <strong>

**HAVE A LOVELY DAY! **


	13. Chapter 13

**I really wanted to publish chapter 13 on Friday the 13th but that would have made no sense... How tripy would it have been if the dates actually matched though?! XD (I know, I'm rambling but it's very early here in my nick of the woods so I'm not fully awake yet...) Insanity aside, THANK YOU to the lovely dearies who supported this story thus far and thank you for leaving reviews and stroking my demanding ego! XD Don't worry, you're nearly done with me... (assuming you won't stumble across any other works of mine) ENJOY! **

_**13**_

Christophe checked behind him and Gregory knew it wasn't because he was antsy about their current position. He continued to carefully shine his cutlass with a white cloth while they waited for the horde of assassins sent to end them. They were on a flat, snow covered field somewhere in the summits of one of the mountains framing the town of South Park. They could see the houses from there, sitting on their fallen pine. It was nearly midnight and Gregory knew the hit men would be punctual. They deliberately chose a wide, barren field for the showdown so none of them could hide in a tree and take them out with a sniper rifle. An exceptional shooter could still find a way but Gregory was staking his life on none having that sort of skill. He prayed he was right...

'You look worried about something. What's bothering you Christophe?' Gregory could make a pretty good guess but he hoped talking about it would put the mercenary's mind at ease.

'You know exactly what I'm worried about. I 'alf expect zem to climb over a 'ill and demand zey fight with us.' Gregory laughed, able to see that happening. The sound brought a small smile to the other's lips too and they stretching around the cigarette perched between them. It was the last one he had with him... He savoured every poisonous breath.

'Stan and Craig agreed with us when we said they'd be safer in Denver. We saw them get on the train and saw the train leave. There are no stops in between and unless they jumped off, which I'm assuming they're not dumb enough to do, they won't get off that train until they safely arrive at their destination. By that time, even if they want to return, it will be too late. One way or another, this night will draw to a close.' Christophe relaxed a little about the other two but a sombre mood came over him instead. They both felt it. It was the calm before the storm. They were both falling into a practiced calm, conserving their energy for the massacre which was yet to come.

'It's just like old time.' Gregory smiled slightly, glancing at the other assassin. Christophe was running his fingers over the shovel in his lap as if drawing strength from the action.

'Yes. I must admit, I missed having you guard my back. The last partner I got, after you moved to France, turned out to be a double snake and I nearly paid the ultimate price for my blindness.' Gregory remembered how they'd tortured him when he'd fallen into the enemy's hands but supressed the familiar shudder.

'What 'appened to him?' Christophe's tone was dangerously low. Gregory noted the hint of protectiveness in it and felt warmth flood him. He knew he could trust Christophe to have his best interests at heart, even during their 'interrogation'. He'd tried to explain to Stan that Christophe had been taking it easy on him, demonstrating some amazing self-restraint considering all their lives hung in the balance. Despite the bad boy attitude, Christophe DeLorn was a big softie but Gregory knew if he ever dared say that out loud he would lose his head for it.

'I killed him and the people he worked for.' Gregory said it like he was talking about eating last night's pork chops. His voice was devoid of emotion and the memory of that night, a study in red, brought a gruesome spark to his frozen eyes.

'Good.' Christophe knew he was not to ask any more questions about that night. If Gregory ever wanted to speak about it, he would listen but otherwise he would respect the other's secrets.

'Did you ask Craig about his time in Peru yet?' Gregory kept his eyes firmly fixed on the blade of his sword, aware of the other's hard look on him.

'Non. I...got distracted.' Gregory knew exactly what that was code for and chuckled. The fact that Christophe didn't confirm his story and still accepted his alliance spoke volumes. In a way Gregory was angered by the other's stupidity but he was also grateful for his trust. He promised himself he was going to have a talk with the Mole later... 'Did you tell Stan about you stalking him?' Gregory rolled his eyes.

'I was NOT stalking him. I keep telling you that. But no, I didn't yet. I also got distracted.' It was Christophe's turn to smirk.

'I 'eard.' Despite himself, Gregory felt some blood rush to his face. Later that day, when Craig and Christophe left their room to find Stan and Gregory still intertwined in bed, he'd had to suffer the Mole's laugh and jokes for hours. Clearly this was material for a while... Craig on the other hand looked completely unphased, though he sometimes deliberately avoided looking him or Stan directly in the eyes.

'What can I say? Stan was much better than I dared hope...' Gregory got a dreamy look in his eyes and Christophe almost rolled his eyes all the way in his skull.

'Zat is way too much information. It was bad enough I caught Stan with his 'ands on Craig-'

'What? I sense a story there.' Christophe wished he could call it back but the words were already out. He opened his mouth to say some half-assed lie when they both heard the faint snap of a branch. In a flash their expressions turned serious and while they still looked at ease, every muscle in their body was rigid and ready to spring into action.

'Zey are 'ere.' Christophe twisted the bud of his cigarette in the log before throwing it into the snow. Gregory nodded his agreement, folding the piece of cloth nicely and placing in the pocket of his new shirt.

'How many do you think they sent?' Whenever they went up against large foes, the two had a game. They each tried to guess the number of foes and the one who was closest had to buy drinks for the rest of the night, assuming they emerged victorious. However, if the loser managed to kill more than the winner of the first game he only had to buy one round of drinks. So far, Gregory held the title. He was very good at guessing their opponent's numbers because he had that uncanny ability to get into other people's heads.

'I say 21.' Christophe flexed his fingers around the handle of his trusty shovel. He also had his gun with him and a spare. He was fairly confident in their chances.

'Hmm... Good guess. I say 25.' As if acknowledging Gregory's input, a loud shriek echoed through the cold night. Christophe grinned morbidly. He'd set traps all around them and that was the scream of an unfortunate assassin being impaled by sharp spikes after falling into one of his holes.

'Zat is one.'

Seeing no point in trying to sneak up on the assassins any longer, the assassins showed themselves. They were quite a distance off, where the occasional tree was still visible and the two jumped behind the log just before a hail of bullets imbedded themselves in the wood where they'd been sitting a second previous. Through the cacophony of noises, they heard another loud scream.

'That's two.' Gregory didn't waste his time firing at random targets. When he pulled the trigger a third death cry rose above the sound of firing guns. Christophe wasn't sitting idly either. He sunk his shovel into the frozen ground with maniacal glee, upturning the rock hard earth with mammoth strength. Before Gregory managed to fall another four of the enemy, he disappeared in the tunnel, burrowing beneath the feet of the unsuspecting opponents. The agents were keeping their distance from their targets, reasoning that as long as they kept put they would run out of ammunition eventually and then it would be easier to kill them from a distance. What they didn't expect was for the Mole to suddenly materialize among them, as if from thin air, and start hacking through them like they were daisies. Christophe killed three before the group turned their attention to him.

Gregory noticed a second group, also turning to Christophe. Out there, in the open, their bullets could catch him. He counted five men and two women. Sliding his knives free, he threw them with a graceful flick of his wrists, watching the blades slash through the open air with deadly precision. One sunk into the skull of a woman, right between her eyes. The other severed one of men's jugulars but in its flight it also nicked another's arm, causing him to drop the gun. Moving towards them with unimaginable speed, Gregory fired two rounds and put the last woman down and another man. The remaining two turned to the new threat in confusion, unsure where they should point their guns and this moment of hesitation allowed Gregory to close the last of the distance and dance between them with cutlass in hand. They had no time to yell before their mouth filled with choking blood and they joined their dead companions. Gregory didn't forget to kill the man who'd only been touched by his knife. Once done, he turned to look in the Mole's direction.

Christophe was careful not to trip over the bodies of the four which were already down, their blood marring the white ground. There was only one assassin left but he was the strongest of them all. He was glad Gregory didn't have to deal with this one since he would have been out of his depth. This behemoth, like himself, was one chosen for his brutality and strength. If one of his fists caught Gregory it would have splintered his bones. Brass knuckles enclosed the thick fingers with iron spikes to increase the threat. Christophe stopped one of the deadly fists from hitting his head with his shovel and felt himself being pushed backwards. Realizing he wasn't going to win this through strength alone, he twisted out of the way. Using the human mountain's momentum against him, Christophe summoned all his strength and brought the edge of his shovel across the exposed back. The metal sunk through the black material of the shirt and blood sprayed but instead of going down, the assassin rose to his towering height with a twisted grin on his chapped lips. Christophe jumbled back, not believing his own eyes. The man's teeth were red with his own blood. A blow like that should have broken the bruit's spine! Christophe wondered if he was dealing with a human at all.

The behemoth grunted and Christophe saw one of Gregory's knives sticking out of his neck but even that wasn't enough to end him. Both men watched in awe as the assassin pulled out the knife as if it was a toothpick. Christophe saw only the tip managed to sink into the iron cords the creature called muscles and gulped. Before he had time to think further, the brute was on him and he was forced to retreat in order to avoid the assault of hammer like punches. For one that size, the man had a shocking amount of speed. While trying to avoid a dangerously close strike, Christophe lost sight of his footing and he tripped on someone's arm. His ass hit the ground and he lost grip of his shovel for an instant. Before he could think of retrieving it, he saw the man prepare to attack and knew this was the end for him. He watched the arm which resembled a tree truck, rear back but it never finished the action. He saw the creature's face contort in pain and creased his eyebrows in confusion, wondering why the enemy was down on one knee. Then he saw Gregory jump back and saw the blood on his sword. The genius severed the assassin's popliteal nerves, at the back of his knee. Christophe could kiss him!

Regaining his wits, the Mole grabbed his shovel and leaped to his feet, fully aware this was not the end. For the moment the injured monster had his attention fixed on Gregory, striking at him whenever he could. He still managed to move, supporting his weight on his good leg, but he was notably slower. Still, the strength of his blows was not impaired and Christophe had to trust that Gregory would manage to avoid them. He had to think of a plan to kill the giant and this was his only opportunity to do so. From the way Gregory darted in and out of the man's reach, taunting him, Christophe gathered the blond understood what he was thinking. From what he could gather, the man had only one visible weak spot. Gregory was still healing from his bruises and he wasn't at his best either with his sleep deprivation. They couldn't afford to drag this fight on for much longer or one of them would make a mistake and that was all it took for the behemoth's hands to reach them. One sluggish move and they were done for. He'd nearly proven that himself...

Christophe waited until the man's back was turned to him before running towards him. The giant turned, sensing his approach, a triumphant grin on his ugly face, but Christophe had been counting on that. He easily changed his course, letting the striking arm move past him without any effect and, putting all his backbone into this one, swung the shovel. The sound of metal striking flesh was resonating. The assassin groaned, his head spinning from being hit so hard across the temple and he tripped over his own bad foot. His centre of gravity was already impaired so he went down like a sack of potatoes. Before he hit the ground, Christophe already pulled out his gun and fired. Blood flew in wide splatters, leaving scarlet blooms across the white canvas. The man stared unseeing at the Mole, one eye open, the other bloody and ruined after the bullet shot right through it. Christophe lowered his arm, breathing hard, and stared at the unblinking eye. If there had been just one other assassin as troublesome as this one in the group they would have been minced meat. He felt Gregory step beside him and they silently looked at their fallen foe for a moment, both understanding that could have just as easily been them.

'I counted 23.' Gregory couldn't help grinning at the other's remark. He ran over the count in his own head.

'Me too. I guess this is a tie. We haven't had one of those before...' Christophe turned his back on the giant, swinging his shovel over his back after giving it a quick wipe in the snow. Gregory followed, sheathing his cutlass.

'Zere is a first for everything... But zat-' Christophe was silenced mid-sentence. Gregory released a knife in the direction of the gunshot before he even turned to look at Christophe, pure instinct taking over. One of the men he'd shot before yelled before going down again, this time for good. Gregory immediately turned to look at Christophe, his eyes flying wide when he found the mercenary on his back. He fell to his knees beside him, noting the other turning paler and the dark stain growing on his green blouse. Cursing he pulled Christophe's loose top down his shoulder so he could see the damage. He took a relieved breath when he realized the shot was just below Christophe's shoulder, missing any vital organs. He glanced at the Frenchman but the other was already unconscious, the exhaustion taking its toll on his overworked body. He was losing an alarming amount of blood and Gregory quickly shook one of the dead assassins out of their shirts. He doubted the man cared. Ripping the white material in three wide strips, he began twisting one of them around the wound, first cleaning it out as best and quickly as he could with some snow. He twisted the other two strips around the first, providing a better stoppage to the blood flow. He knew the solution was only temporary but he was glad to see the stain becoming smaller and smaller with each applied layer.

He pulled Christophe up and on his back, piggy back style, and began running as fast as he could with his load. He had to get to a car and then he had to get somewhere where he could properly look after the wound. The hospital wasn't an option, not when they were both being hunted by the merciless rich. With money backing them, there were very few things those assholes couldn't find out... The last thing they need was for another tsunami of assassins to find them while they were weakened.

'I swear Christophe, if you die I will personally reach into the flaming mouth of hell and pull you back so I can beat you to death myself. I am NOT telling Craig you died on my watch, you better get that through your thick skull!'

* * *

><p>Craig sneezed and shook his head. Stan glanced at him, startled by the sudden sound. He was glancing out the motel window, hoping to see two particular men coming towards their door. They'd agreed to meet at the Pine Needle Motel. It was a small distance from the train station and the two had no trouble finding them. The older man at the desk accepted their money and handed them a key without so much as a glance, clearly used to all sorts of people renting his rooms. Christophe told them it was as anonymous a place as they could hope to get and Stan understood why. The room was okay, a five star improvement when compared to the abandoned apartment block, and they didn't seem to have any neighbours. A few whores moved around the premises and the old man didn't try to stop them. Stan guessed they occasionally found work with the travellers staying in the rooms and one had tried to entice them too but Stan waved her off. She was persistent so he kissed Craig in front of her to prove his point. She left them alone after that though Craig had been sulking ever since...<p>

'Are you catching a cold?' Craig momentarily forgot his decision not to talk to Stan and shook his head.

'I don't think so. I feel fine.' Stan glanced out the window one last time before he walked to the small kitchen table and took a seat opposite Craig. The wait was maddening. Having to wonder whether Gregory and Christophe were okay, alive even, was driving both of them up the wall. It was barely one in the morning so they knew it was a while still before the two made an appearance. Bothe tried to hide their worry and their impatience.

'My mom told me once that when you sneeze like that it means someone's talking about you behind your back.' Craig smiled and Stan mirrored the gesture, feeling some of the stress ease.

'If that were true then I would sneeze all day and night long. You would never get any sleep.' Stan laughed.

'Yeah... It's just a stupid thing people say.'

* * *

><p><strong>Is it though?... Craig should remember that all legends are born from truth! XD And just when you thought the drama was over... I hope you lovelies liked the update and please remember to write that review (it can be as short as a word or as long as an essay! XD) <strong>

**HAVE A NICE DAY! **


	14. Chapter 14

**Warning: MATURE SEXUAL CONTENTS! (YAY!) **

**Hello and a good day to you all! I hope you're all doing well and thank you for continuing to read this story! Your support means the world to me. XD (but I'm sure you know that by now and if not then i have failed to make you see how important you are as readers and reviewers... X3) Well, this is the second last chapter (in some ways it's actually the last chapter since the next is only a small conclusion...) You're nearly out of this tunnel! XD **

**ENJOY! **

_**14**_

Christophe felt groggy. His mind refused to work properly and obey his command. He wanted to remember where he was and when he'd gone to sleep. He searched frantically for answers but it was like trying to reach for tiny fish in a lake with his bare hands. They kept swimming away through his fingers, only to near the surface again and entice him to try again with the same disappointing result. He was willing to be Gregory could catch one of the scaly creatures with his cat-like reflexes... Gregory! That proved to be the catalyst and the memory of the fight returned to him with such force it nearly drove him back into unconsciousness. He remembered their struggle to take down the giant assassin and then realizing their game was a draw and... He'd been shot. Suddenly he didn't want to wake up. A part of him feared he'd wake back in hell, like he'd been in for that brief moment when he first died. He could still smell the brimstone sometimes during the night and hear the tortured moans of the forsaken souls. He'd made peace with his destination a long time ago and while he acted like he disregarded his life, he was in no hurry to return there. Though he had to admit, it was far better than some people imagined hell to be, as insane as that sounded.

'Christophe? Can you hear me?' He recognised that voice... Forgetting his fear, his eyes flew open. He was met by wide, moist, blue eyes. The blue of clear spring water. He felt like bursting into tears when he saw Craig standing above him. He'd failed in his promise. He'd failed and now Craig was in hell with him!

'I'm sorry Craig... I failed you.' Craig's features creased in a frown. He couldn't understand why Christophe had such sorrow in his eyes. He'd expected to see the relief and joy he was feeling himself, not self-loathing.

'What are you talking about? You didn't fail me.' Christophe blinked up at him before turning his head to look around him. This was not heaven but it certainly was not hell. He was in a tiny bedroom, mostly occupied by the bed. The closet, because he hesitated to call it a room, was tasteless and he could tell it was cheap.

'Where are we?'

'Detroit, at the Pine Needle. We've been here for just under a week now.' Christophe snapped his head back around so he could catch Craig in a lie.

'What do you mean, just under a week? You left South Park yesterday.' Craig shook his head slowly, a glad smile always on his lips. Christophe wondered if that smile was for his being alive and warmed at the thought.

'You were shot and slept for five days. Gregory said you lost a lot of blood and your sleepless nights didn't help your recovery. I told you to stop drinking coffee but you wouldn't listen. Thank God you're alive.' Craig felt his eyes water again but he held the tears back. He was not about to cry in front of Christophe, a man who valued strength above all else, even if they were tears of joy. Christophe decided to keep to himself that a bitch like god had nothing to do with it. He reached for Craig's cheek, wincing when he moved his stiff shoulder. He didn't let that stop him though and he brushed his fingers under the student's eye, wiping away a rebellious tear.

'I'm sorry I scared you.' Craig leaned into the touch, drawing strength from the living warmth of Christophe's skin. 'Where are Gregory and Stan?'

'They left a while ago to buy some food. They should be back any second.' Christopher nodded, a mischievous thought beginning to form in his mind.

' 'Ave you 'ad anymore trouble since zat day? Anymore assassins?' Craig shook his head and Christophe smiled at the good news. It seemed they were safe for now. If the company had any idea where they were they wouldn't have missed the opportunity to strike while one of them was incapacitated. He knew not to get cocky however and realized it was time to move. Gregory was probably thinking the same and he was willing to bet the food was for the road rather than for a prolonged stay. He was well enough to travel after all and he was frankly surprised Gregory waited until now... He figured Craig had something to do with that. 'It's time to move locations.' Christophe made to sit up but Craig immediately pushed him back down, avoiding the area around his injury for fear of causing the mercenary unnecessary pain.

'You're not going anywhere! You're still healing.' Christophe found Craig's care endearing but he knew this wound was what men like him and Gregory considered a graze. He remembered one time when he'd had to defend his life in a fight with three bullets in him. He'd survived that and he was certainly going to ignore this new scar in the making.

'I'm fine Craig. I'm 'ealed enough to move.' Craig kept him stubbornly down and Christophe sighed as if in resignation. 'But it seems you won't be satisfied unless I prove myself to you.' Craig didn't have time to make much sense of the words before the world spun around him and he was the one on his back. Christophe grinned wickedly at him, showing both rows of white teeth.

'Christophe! What the fuck do you think you're doing?!' He didn't know if he should struggle against the hold since the mercenary was injured, though his hold was strong enough...

'I'm showing you just 'ow well I've recovered. I'm full of vitality.' Christophe flashed him another shark grin before capturing Craig's lips and effectively stopping his protests. His shoulder throbbed but it was a mild discomfort, one he could easily live with and ignore. The only piece of clothing he seemed to have on him was a pair of pyjama bottoms and the clean white bandage around his injury. Craig on the other hand was over dressed and he couldn't allow that. Strong hands pushed Craig's t-shirt up, forcing their lips to break apart for the excruciating second it took for it to be pushed over his head. Christophe let his palm sweep over the familiar plains of the other's chest and abdomen, his fingertips reverberating with every tremble and every shake. It took Craig a long time to remember why he was fighting Christophe's will to begin with...

'Wait.' He pushed against Christophe's good shoulder, not too harshly, and the other reluctantly retreated. 'Okay, fine. I believe you.' Christophe's wide grin made Craig sigh but there was no ill thought behind the action.

'Zen you 'ave no objection to continuing, right?' The mercenary tried to kiss Craig again but the other twisted his head and Christophe's smile withered, replaced by confusion. He knew Craig was in the mood for sex, he could feel the evidence growing!

'I have one condition.' The Frenchman's raised his eyebrows. Well, it wasn't a no...

'What is it?' Craig had an impish smile of his own playing on his lips. Christophe eyed it wearily, all the while thinking how much he wanted to kiss the pink lips.

'This time you let me be on top.' Christophe's mind blanked. He had NOT, certainly not, expected that request. Craig took in the open shock and realized what his request sounded like... He hastily added more to it. 'And by that I mean you have to let me do all the work.' Christophe snickered when he caught Craig's true meaning and he shook with the ripples of it. It wasn't that he minded the idea of being toped... It was just that only one man had ever managed to supress him like that and that man was Gregory. He tended to get quite violent and he wasn't sure Craig was ready for that yet.

'I can live with zat.' The two moved around on the bed until they were in their right places. In the process they also got rid of the last of their clothes. Christophe eyed the scribbles of dogs on his pyjamas and looked at Craig with an arched eyebrow.

'Gregory picked them. He said you would get the joke...' Craig remembered Christophe telling him he hated dogs and when the other scowled at the pants, as if he expected the cartoons to cower before him, he realized this was just another one of the many taunts the two pulled on each other. Craig wouldn't have believed they were best friends without seeing the evidence with his own eyes, not in a million years.

Christophe finally threw the offending article of clothing across the room, watching it hit the wall and slide down with satisfaction. Craig couldn't help laughing at the mercenary's antics and apparently his good mood was intoxicating because the other's scowl soon changed to a smirk. He sat back with his arms crossed behind his head, watching Craig with lust darkened eyes. Craig took a deep breath, suddenly not so sure of himself, before crawling over the other's battle hardened body, straddling his waist so he could have easy access to the awaiting lips. Their tongue were in no hurry to go in a frenzy. They were both happy to feel the other by their side, both knowing the madness would sweep them off their feet soon enough. Craig felt a hand move along his side, caressing him, and his body began moving on its own. He could tell Christophe approved from the low growl which brought a small smile to his lips.

'I need you now Craig.' The student shook his head, that impish twinkle setting his eyes ablaze.

'Not yet. You agreed to let me do all the work so you'll just have to be patient.'

'Sheet!' Christophe only then realized that perhaps he'd been too quick to celebrate. Craig had been around Gregory for too long... He was beginning to develop a sadistic side. With a wider grin, Craig planted a firm kiss on Christophe's collar bone, leaving a mark. It was the first time he'd marked the mercenary and he made sure to place the red insignia in a visible place where the Mole's loose tops wouldn't cover it. Once satisfied, he moved lower along the other's body, feeling the heavier breathing and the speeding heart beats. He'd never known he had this sort of effect on someone as fierce as the Mole... To say the feeling was empowering was an understatement. Craig placed a soft kiss on the spot where Christophe's heart was heard the loudest, marvelling at the strength of the muscle. Craig was ready to move his lips lower but Christophe's hands cupped his face and brought it up so they were looking at each other. It was the first time Craig saw such a tender expression on the other's face and he melted like paddy at the sight. Christophe could have told him to walk head first into oncoming traffic and he would have obeyed, the power of his love having send him in a trance like state. He loved Stan but their love paled in comparison to what he felt for Christophe and only now he understood what all the hype about it was. He finally understood all that lovey-dovey stuff in songs and poems...

'Not tonight. I can't wait any longer to have my arms around you. Se il vous plaît?' This day was proving to be full of pleasant surprises... First Christophe woke up, then he looked at him like he was the most precious jewel in the world and now he was saying please? Craig had an urge to pinch himself and confirm that this was indeed reality. Swallowing in attempt to moisten his parched mouth, Craig nodded. He didn't trust his voice.

He turned his head slightly, keeping their eyes firmly locked, and kissed the mercenary's fingers. He wondered how many died because of the hands holding him so tenderly and wondered how many more would share their fate. Slowly, he rose on his knees and guided Christophe's length to his entrance. He was ready to go through with the act when Christophe stopped him, a strong hand on his arm. He looked at Craig like he was insane and he sat up, their lips almost uniting again.

'Wait! What about stretching yourself? Zis will 'urt you too much otherwise and I-' Craig put a finger across the Mole's sputtering lips, a knowing smile on his.

'I already took care of that.' Christophe's frowned silently demanded further explanation. 'While you were asleep. I was... lonely.' Craig looked away, fixing his stare on an invisible spot on the wall to his right. He was sure someone could melt chocolate from the heat which rose to his face. He felt Christophe leave an understanding kiss on his neck, somehow able to feel the other's grin.

'I see. Were you zinking of me?' Craig looked back at Christophe like he'd asked the dumbest question.

'No. I was thinking of Gregory.' Before Christophe's expression could fully darken, Craig chuckled. 'I'm kidding! Of course I was thinking of you...' The foreboding look left Christophe in the snap of a finger and he pressed their lips together while his hands settled on the trickster's angular hips. Craig allowed Christophe to guide him, aiding the process as much as he could, and gasped into the kiss when he felt the head of the other's member begin to push its way inside him. No matter how many times they did this it still felt amazing to be filled so completely by someone he loved so deeply. This time was different from all the others though. Usually Christophe would be fucking Craig's brains out by that point, making him scream cursed he didn't even know existed in his vocabulary. This time he was pushing in slowly, savouring every touch and every kiss. It was far gentler and their bodies spoke of the love they both realized they felt for one another. Maybe one day soon they could speak it out loud too but for now their bodies did the talking.

When he was fully sheathed inside Craig, Christophe took a moment to enjoy the natural heat all around him. An arm wound around Craig's lower back, holding him close while they caught their breaths after their last passionate kiss. Blue eyes stared into green as Craig began moving his body, slowly but powerfully. It lacked the wildness but each thrust hit home with an accuracy which would make even Gregory jealous. Craig twisted his fingers in Christophe's hair, simply feeling the surprisingly soft strands, while moans and gasps rolled down his tongue. Christophe refused to break their staring contest as he moved a hand to touch Craig's neglected member. The other hummed in approval and barely resisted the urge to throw his head back when the mercenary began moving his experienced fingers along it, in rhythm with the quickening thrusts. Craig's legs were securely twisted around the Frenchman's waist and his heels dug in the flesh harder as he felt his climax approach.

'Zat's it Craig. Come for me.' Craig moaned Christophe's name and his eyes fell shut, despite his deepest wish to keep them open, as his body obeyed the mercenary's command. Though this orgasm wasn't as violent as some of the other brought forth by the assassin's burning tough, it was by far one of the most satisfying experiences Craig remembered ever having. Through his haze he could tell the other was close too but was holding back and opened his eyes when he realized why. He kissed Christophe's mouth before whispering in his ear, his voice hot and heavy with satisfaction.

'Inside. Don't hold back.' Even if he wanted to, Christophe couldn't anymore. Craig rested his forehead on Christophe shoulder, realizing only later it was the injured one, as he felt the seed fill him. He heard Christophe say his name while being mowed down by his pleasure and smiled to himself. He doubted there was a sweeter sound in the world...

* * *

><p>'Are they-?!' Stan gesticulated with his arm to convey his meaning. His other hand was holding bags full of various foods and some extra clothes. He and Gregory just stepped into the motel room when they heard the incriminating noises coming from Christophe's recovering room. Gregory glanced at Stan, not having paused for even a moment when he heard his friend's passionate moan and placed his own bags on the table. He rolled his eyes but a smile was quickly growing on his face.<p>

'Go figure. He nearly dies and the first thing on his mind when he wakes up is sex. That's our Mole.' Stan opened his mouth to say something else but then he heard Craig make a noise of pleasure which send blood rushing to his face and directly South and closed it right up. He brought his own bags to the table, placing them beside Gregory's, a smile of his own replacing the mortified first reaction.

'Well at least we know for a fact he recovered.'

'A full recovery by the sound of it.' Gregory chuckled and craned his neck to kiss Stan whose eyes went wide. He didn't shy away though...

'What was that for?' Gregory turned his attention back to the bags, a trademark wolfish grin replacing the relieved one at Christophe's speedy recovery.

'That's a promise.'

* * *

><p><strong>Poor Craig has his hands full with that mercenary of his... Same goes for Stan! XD I can totally picture them meeting for a cup of tea in the future and sighing because they're slowly being driven mad by their partners. XD I hope it was a fun read and, since the next chapter is so small, I think I'll update it early. I just want one review on this before that happens. If i get that today then you will find the thrilling conclusion of this story today. (I'm mean like that... XD) <strong>

**HAVE A LOVELY DAY! **


	15. Chapter 15

**Sigh... this is the last chapter...Shut up! I'm not crying... YOU'RE CRYING! *runs away while whipping furiously at tears and accidentally hits a tree because her vision is compromised* Well, if you will kindly ignore the black eye, I'd like to THANK YOU very very very very very very very very much for reading this story till the end! You guys are the best! (You know who you are XD) for the last time, ENJOY! **

_**Epilogue **_

_Two months later... _

'I think I'd like a refill. What about you my dear?' Gregory glanced at Stan's half empty glass with a wicked grin and the other shook his head at the blond's exasperating antics but didn't argue against it. He even stopped trying to convince Gregory to call him dear since the assassin did what he wanted anyway and if he tried to interfere Gregory just came up with another term of endearment, usually far more embarrassing. He'd been called everything from doll to honey bear. Dear was a blessing by comparison...

'Alright, alright! I get ze point!' Christophe signalled for the waitress to bring them a refill, the scowl on his face sending her running to take care of his order above all others. He had a hand around Craig while the other rested his head on his shoulder. Stan still wasn't too comfortable displaying his preference for men so openly in public but he allowed Gregory to hold his hand under the dinner table. He enjoyed feeling the other's firm grasp while he fought tooth and nail not to show his amusement at the mercenary's sulk. The last thing he needed was that blasted shovel of his aiming for his head...

'There's no need to be so hissy Christophe. You lost another game and you know the rules.' Christophe grumbled something Gregory and Stan didn't hear but Craig snickered at the comment. They'd had to go chest to chest with another group of hunters the other day and, as usual, Gregory's guess as regards to the enemy's numbers was spot on. Stan was beginning to suspect his lover had some sort of supernatural ability since this was the sixth game he won and Christophe got more irritated with each loss. In four of the cases Christophe managed to kill more than Gregory so he only had to buy a round for them all but the string of losing still soured his mood.

'So where are we going next?' Craig straightened, removing his head from the other's shoulder but keeping the arm wrapped around him. He scooped a bite of his breakfast waffle with his fork and chewed on it while he waited for the answer. They were somewhere in France now and only Christophe and Gregory understood what was going on. He and Stan knew how to say please, hello and thank you but that was about it. The town they were currently passing through had an exceptionally complicated name and Craig didn't even bother to recall it. He knew it started with C so he just called it that. So far they've travelled through D, C, another C, A and were now on yet another C. He really should have bothered to pick up some French by now but it wasn't like they left their hiding spots, not unless they were deliberately trying to attract the attention of their hunters so they could decimate them or they were leaving the town.

'Next we are traveling to Dijon and we'll meet some reinforcements there.'

'Oui... Some of my past co-workers decided zey would rather 'elp us bring down the company zan work for them a moment longer.' Christophe had a wry smile, one even Gregory couldn't decipher.

'Well we know where their main base is, right? If those guys worked there then maybe they can help us get in.' Gregory nodded at Stan's words, thinking pretty much the same himself. They've already managed to get to two of the old bitches, as Christophe was fond of naming them, in charge. They had been in America and easy to access. In their wildest dreams they didn't expect for Gregory and Christophe to go for them, not while being targeted, even if they were two of the best. The others retreated to France where their main base was and they were surrounded by a wider circle of assassin. Getting to them wouldn't be easy but the four of them had gotten quite good at cutting of the heads of this hydra.

'You make it sound so easy...' Craig's tone wasn't admonishing, just matter of fact. Wistful even. He couldn't deny that he barely waited for the day when he wouldn't have to question the intentions of every person that happened to look his way. He'd come a long way from the helpless target of before though... Christophe had taught him how to handle a gun and he'd discovered he had quite a flair for it. His medical knowledge, scarce as it was, came in handy too more times than he liked to admit.

'I wouldn't have a problem with it being easy.' Stan's mirrored Craig's expression for a fleeting moment while Gregory and Christophe exchanged sombre looks. Both assassins wanted to ensure the safety of the other men and understood how difficult the last couple of weeks had been for them especially. Having to leave their old lives behind like that was a big adjustment but until they obliterate the company, neither could return to anything resembling a normal life. It was simply too dangerous and the two knew for a fact their old bosses were not magnanimous. Stan had learned to handle a gun too and helped Gregory with formulating plans. All four of them had been surprised to find Stan had a mind for tactics...

'Votre café et le thé, messieurs.' The dinner waitress toped their cups, pouring coffee only in front of the Mole. Gregory flashed her a wide, charming grin which had her blushing but it withered at Christophe's glare. He at least had the decency to grumble a 'merci'.

'Merci, belle dame.' She blushed at Gregory's compliment and Stan wondered if there was anyone under the stars who wasn't susceptible to the Brit's toxic charm.

'Désirez-vous autre chose?' Gregory opened his mouth to answer in the negative but Christophe beat him to the punch.

'Non.' He growled at her for good measure and she hastily left, afraid to incur the wrath of the short-tempered Mole. Gregory sighed in resignation.

'Honestly Christophe. Are you ever going to learn any manners?' Instead of answering, the mercenary took a gulp of the black coffee. Stan and Craig exchanged knowing looks of their own. The two did this every time they stopped at a dinner... When they looked back at the assassins, their mirth diminished. Gregory and Christophe had a certain serious look in their eyes and the two knew they were no longer safe.

'Ze guy at ze back 'as been staring at us for far too long.' Gregory didn't have to turn to confirm this. He'd noticed the man and his companion the moment they entered the dinner and had been keeping an eye on the door to see if they left. Stan and Craig suddenly became very interested in their leftover breakfast. They knew better than to attract unwanted attention by acting suspiciously.

'I do believe we have to teach them some manners. Who knows, maybe you'll learn something new too Christophe?' The Mole scowled but slid easily to his feet, Craig following him. The four of them began making their way to the exit, hearing the two assassins leave their own booths to follow. Gregory grinned at Christophe. 'How many do you reckon are waiting to ambush us outside?' Christophe tough for a moment. They just took down a force so he doubted it was too many...

'30.' Stan and Craig's eyes went wide but they kept silent.

'Oh... I do hope you're wrong. Stan?'

'24.' Craig and he were drawn in the game along the way but they played on behalf of one of the other. They didn't have any money to pay for rounds so the game was useless if one of them won. But they still enjoyed being included.

'Craig?' The other South Parkateer answered without a moment's thought.

'35.' Gregory was silent for a moment and Christophe chuckled heartily.

'You two really are birds of a feather... Well, my guess is 25.' They stepped into the fresh air and already began to see signs of an impending ambush. The street was too quiet, as if something chased away all the passer-bys. They didn't slow down and kept walking along the road until they came to an alley. None of them had to waste time checking to see if their weapons were ready because they always were. As soon as they reached the gaping mouth of the smaller street, they saw the assassins. Gregory grinned at Christophe. 'I think you have to get your money ready again...' Christophe scowled at the blond before unstrapping his shovel from his back.

'Don't get too cocky Gregory. It might just kill you.' That was the last thing they managed to say before the massacre began in earnest.

* * *

><p><strong>THE END! Thank you very much for the read and i hope to hear from you again in the future. XD (P.S. you can take it to heart that they destroyed the bad guys once they infiltrated their base XD) I don't know what they did after that but i picture Gregory lecturing a collage English class and Christophe teaching French while Stan and Craig pretend they don't know the guys... That would make an interesting continuation... O-O <strong>

**HAVE A LOVELY DAY! **


End file.
